Into the Void : Book 1
by Irish Maiden16
Summary: Post-TDK. Bruce Wayne survives the heart ache of losing someone closest to him and his symbol. Now a deadly threat rises from the ashes of a lie, he must decide if his soul is ready to put the past demons behind him. Only love from an alluring cat burglar, trust from loyal friends and truth can spare his soul from being swallowed into the abyss.
1. Chapter 1

**Into the Void  
**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Christopher Nolan and Co. and DC Comics**

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**Post-TDK. Bruce Wayne survives the heart ache of losing someone closest to him and his symbol. Now a deadly threat rises from the ashes of a lie, he must decide if his soul is ready to put the past demons behind him. Only love from an alluring cat burglar , trust from loyal friends and truth can spare him from being swallowed into the abyss. (Set directly after the events of The Dark Knight)**

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_**A/N : This lengthy story is dedicated to all Bat/Cat cats and to my favorite writer Team Damon. I hope you all enjoy this exciting tale of the Nolanverse.  
**_

_**I am always open to requests..so don't be shy to ask. Thank you and enjoy.**_

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_"You'll hunt me...you'll condemn me ...set the dogs after me..."_

Batman sits on the Bat-pod is waiting in the darkness, listening to the toll of GCPD sirens as they patrol the main streets. Warm and sticky blood seeps out of the Kevlar mid section armor, he sees spectrum of red and hears mocking laughter of the Joker rattled in his ears. Glove hand presses into the bullet hole as teeth grit, the throbbing spasms of inflicting pain surge every fiber of his bruised and battered body. The restless city occupants are likely tuning in Gotham Tonight, watching the newscast of Harvey Dents murder, police officers drinking freshly made coffee sitting at their desk waiting for the Commissioner to say the false lie that buries the truth on who was the hero of Gotham.

It feels like hours - eternity as he waits in the shadows for a sign of freedom from the blinding searchlights of patrol coppers, he feels the taste of defeat wash down his throat as he breathes the air. He has every attempt to flee to the bunker.

All that remains under the Kevlar is a broken shadow of a man who cannot face the dawns early light.

Power he grasps of most of the scum of Gotham's underbelly fades, his symbol that he embraces every night shatters as the pound of his heart pumps blood into his weak shell.

Molten hazel eyes under graphite slits glance at occupied streets , well-kept neighborhoods of the high class of society, shimmering towers with thousand panel windows , glows of street lights mounted at every corner , huddles of the homeless roaming the sidewalks as they breathe in their washed hopes and dreams in this city turn into nightmares. He is the nightmare that people would fear, the rouge vigilante that allowed the Joker to twist his mind. The night was still kind to him , after hours of enduring heartache , crowbars and bullets , light rain rolled down the sloped graphite nose of his cowl and drips into the crease of his lips, and he watches Gotham as a silent protector , feels the flames of his soul ignite as black curtain length cape wraps over his body.

His fingers touch the controls of the Bat-pod, he waits a second more for the incoming patrol car to make a clearing for escape. Red and blue lights become captured into the chasms of his weary dark eyes, he settles his body down, back arched and boots rubbing against the side, presses the throttle and feels the roars of the engines pulse in his bones. He feels tired, dead to this world of black and white - conflicting ripples of emotions tugging deep inside his angry bones. Blood was caking over his stomach, he presses the radio transmitter and breathless speaks to his loyal friend and medic, he had to push on, not let the pain become his aggressor. He had to be strong for one more ride.

He zooms out of the alley, one hand clutches his gushing wound as he regains focus through the traffic and flies into rows of park cars, breaking side mirrors and marking driver side doors with his cycle. He knows that time was now the enemy, he was bleeding internally - bullet, broken ribs, throbbing knee were not the only infliction, knowing that he failed to save the woman he loved made his heart bleed on the inside out he hates feeling the dread of lost.

Tears flow as the wind rushes pass his face. Bruce Wayne has always been the man of inner strength, discipline of emotions and intelligence, it was foreign for him to feel like a lesser man - a man who attained power and lost it because he trusted the White Knight, now he was a part of vast lie that would make wear the inside out. The Dark Knight of Gotham was now the false monster. "Alfred..." He voice was faltering. "I'll be at the bunker in a few minutes."

Breath was getting thinner as he made a swift turn in parking lot and fell to the side, crashing his body on the glazed pavement. Whispers of Gotham engulfed his ears, no grateful words from the lips of men and women as his cold existence lies limp into puddles. Nothing mattered, he did not matter anymore. All he would be is a haunting memory.

That was more painful than a switchblade in the ribs. He wanted more, he wanted to save more lives, help preserve justice and become an example.

Was the dream dying?

Eye lids closed as thoughts of the long battle ahead infused his drifting mind. He did not know what was going to happen to Bruce Wayne and the Batman.

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**Chapter 1**

Hazel eyes darted open to the sound of heels clicking inches away, a cold presence filtered through his blood stream...A woman's shadow enveloped over his crimson drench and battered body.

He squinted his stinging eyes and sees a beauty cloaked in leather swaying her curves towards him...she poise is confident, alluring and deadly. She is armed with a visible weapon stabbed to her thigh...always alert of her surroundings as dark caramel-colored eyes shift to the Hellish sounds of her territory.

"You're in deep trouble aren't you..." a surly voice taunted, mounting her stiletto heels on the end of his cape. She rubbed her finger tips against a diamond necklace wrapped securely around her graceful neck...a satisfying spoil that she acquired from an eventful evening with a Judge's son Derek Spencer ...the taste of champagne still mingled on her plump tear drop lips...it was all part of job to get inside his pants take a bit of extra cash...seduce him still all his senses were dazed and then strike the vault with clinical precision using her equip skills of larceny.

She felt suddenly ridiculous as curiously took over her cunning mind, she drooped her eyes and slowly crouched down surveying the blood caking over Kevlar plates and catching a whiff of sickening sweat poring out of him.

Batman curled his lips in a strained voice he asked, " I need..." he never felt so vulnerable...weak and frustrated. She was a complete stranger ...that deemed herself to be unpredictable to any circumstance. "I need your help..." his voice trailed watching her instantly scoff his request.

She shook her head and ignored the sudden feelings of sympathy. She did not trust anyone who crossed her path...why was he so different from the other back stabbers, why should she have a reason to care if he bled to death. He was a condemn man, an outcast...why should she risk her own skin to save his damn life?

"And why should I help you..." Her eyes narrowed to the seeping bullet hole. "You've got nothing I want." She wasn't going to ignore her every instinct of survival to be the "Good Samaritan." She could leave him to the police and bloodhounds trailing his scent.

He was everything against her standards...self righteous...moody...very unselfish to the people of this dark hole of a city. She scolded at his wounds with a heated glare and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. Soul was stirring, she knew that this encounter would come back to haunt her...his intense gaze had evaded her mind.

She listened to heavy breath intake escaping his glazed lips.

"You assume too much," he replied in a gruff tone, looking right through her rigid frame. "I have a lot more... than you think." His voice was faltering as he slurred his words revealing a faint lisp.

She stared him down, body cringing. "I'll give you the assistance you require..." she swallowed. "I want something in return...I never do anything for free."

Batman slightly nodded, and slowly lifted himself off the ground, the pressure of the bullet was making his body scream. He winced, grinding his top jagged canines. "You're a real piece of work..." He coughed up a bit of blood.

She peered at the line of crimson sliding down his sharp chin. She was finding herself entrance by this mystery. "Oh really," she challenged. "I'm not the one spilling his guts out...and making a such a mess."

He scowled lightly. "That's what happens when you've got a bullet lodged in your mid-section."

"Why?" she demanded. " Didn't you keep your guard up?"

He paused for a moment. "Its complicated," he growled out. "There were lives that needed to be saved. Good people."

The brunette clenched her jaw. "Good people...yeah right." she scoffed. "In this city there are no good people...they're not worth risking everything." Batman slowly got off the ground, putting all his weight on his good knee, he wobbled slightly and his hand grasped the saddle of the Bat-pod.

The sirens were getting closer. He turned to the direction of the echoing wails and released a deep sigh. "You're wrong," he rasped out. "This city is full of good people..." He cough up more blood...this time in thick clots. Everything around him was turning red...his limbs started to feel numb...and feverish symptoms surge through his weaken body.

"Look if you want to banter about the qualities of Gotham's every day living...we'll make a rain-check...right now you look like death is creeping at your door. Tell me what I have to do to make your blood flow decrease."

"I thought you didn't care?" he threw out in a wheeze.

She smirked. "For you ... I will make an exception." She said smiling, stepped closer snaked her arm around his blood stained waist and pressed her tight muscle against the bullet wound. "Seriously this wound looks bad..."

"I've survived worse," he ejected. She took his word for it. "I need antiseptic now!"

"Sorry I usually carry a batch with me." she witty returned, feeling his warm breath rush against her neck. She felt the sticky blood latch on her leather sleeve and quickly pulled herself away. Her eyes darken as they peered at the liquid plasma in the soft orange glows of the street lights. "Blood stains and leather..." she shook her head. "Not a great mix."

Batman's eyes rolled under the graphite slits, "I'll make it up to you." He walked a few steps before crashing to the ground and releasing a frustrating grunt as the back of the cowl smacked forcefully on the pavement...he slammed his eyes and then opened staring at the straight strands of auburn drape over her shapely shoulders and the concerned look etched across her brow. "I need to get back on my feet!"

She tightened her lips into a firm line, "You asked," she held out her hand and hoisted him back into his feet, his body banging into her right shoulder, as she encircled her arm around his back. " Where's your infirmity?"

He fluttered his eyes, feeling lightheaded. "Not far..." he groaned, placing his gloved hand on the wound. He noticed the handgun strapped to her thigh. "You carry a gun?" His voice was gravely and spent an unnerving chill down her spine.

"Occupational hazard... a girl should always carry a deadly accessory with her." She felt her gut build up with dread. "I take a lot of risks with my job...deadly risks that one slip up will take away one of my nine lives...if I'm not step ups ahead of the game."

"A gun is a weapon that takes lives..." he snarled, mind collecting resurfacing memories of the night his parents were murdered.. "It's a tool that cowards use."

"Don't lecture me on methods of survival...I do what I have to do to survive. If you been through the Hell I have you would agree."

"Maybe less than you think..." he replied, moaning deeply. The flashes of patrol cars became captured into his cool hazel eyes. "We have to move...now!" he ordered. She glared at the reflections of red and blue.

"Don't tell me what to do," she hissed, knowing that her police record was ready piled high as a mountain and she was wanted by the Detroit police for breaking and entering GM Renaissance Center that was along the International Riverfront. She had to admit it was enjoyable to plunge through the shopping centers, banks and brokerage firms..even more pleasurable to swipe wallets.

"Your name?" he inquired, wiping the blood off his lips. Vision was becoming foggy.

She was labeled as a seductress...efficient con artist and a stray cat. At sixteen she broke out of Gotham's woman's juvenile corrections center and roamed the through the cities taking on different identities to maintain her cover from the watching eyes of the low-rated authorities that hunted her down.

_No way in Hell am I giving him my real name. _

"Sadie." She answered quickly, with a false identity on the tip of her tongue.

She cocked her head and noticed an abandon warehouse a foot from their position.

With GCPD hot on her masked acquaintance's tail, she knew it was a place where he would be hidden and safe from becoming another addition for a cell at Arkham. She moved his limp body immediately into the shadows, leaned him against a steel grater that supported the monorail track and gingerly moved to the garage door, handgun was resting in her curled fingers as she was prepared to strike at any inhabitants that deemed the building as their domain.

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Her eyes roamed over the area, Batman slowed his pace of breath feeling a dizzy spell rushing over his stiff body...soon he felt the drops of moisture from the steel support beams trickling into the slits of his cowl...vision was becoming foggy and stomach started to churn.

"Clear," he heard the young brunette call out, she lowered her weapon. "Come on move your ass we ain't got all night." He recognized the tone of accent and knows she is from the urban slums of the Old Town District.

Batman's eyes fixed a hazy gaze on the warehouses garage, he then turned his gaze to the Batpod...time was already betraying him enough...but he had to clear all traces of his tracks. "I'll drive the Pod into the garage." he growled out, staggering to the powerful armed vehicle . He pulled his body over the saddle and clutched the throttle.

Sadie crossed her arms protectively over her as she watched the bike drive on the ramp and listened to the roaring engine switch off. Batman's body hung loosely over the vehicle's frame. He was fading.

Sadie paced to the garage door and pressed the button: instantly the metal door descended shut.

Batman tried to the transmit a message to Alfred through the comlink...but his thoughts gathering into a mindless state. He parted his lips and did a few heavy breaths before crashing on the cement floor. "Argh..." He grunted out loud, feeling a bit embarrassed in front of her.

"Alright let's get you fix up..." Sadie quickly spotted a dusty mat leaned against the wall. "Don't move I got an idea." Batman gave her a quick roll with his eyes and then seethed feeling his throbbing wound starting to sting right into tissue and muscle.

She slammed the mat down right in front of him. "Well it's not an operating table...but it its the best we've got for now." In a matter of seconds he crawled on his knees and crashed onto the hard rubber. She cringed looking at the blood pour out from his wound...she hated seeing blood it was a sign of vulnerability...weakness.

Batman breathed harshly and bit down on his blood stained lower lip. "I need you to remove the bullet."

"Look do I like I graduated out of Gotham medical school?" she flared. "I want to know what I will be receiving after this operation? My skills don't come cheap."

Batman groaned and placed his hand over the bullet wound. "If I survive this...you'll have a certified check with lots of zeroes."

"Okay first of all we need to remove the suit...and get some morphine." she moved to the windows and glared at the patrol cars zipping pass with searchlights pointing at the shadowy areas. "I should bring you to the hospital...wait I forgot its rubble. Damn it."

_Think Selina there has to be a First Aid kit lying around there_. She thought knowing by US law that every work site is required to have first aid equipment for injured employes . Her brown eyes surveyed the dark space. She used her night vision and peered through the umbra only to discover a medical kit on the far wall. She listened to a cry of agony pierce through his lips...her heart shattered..she knew that he is trusting her to save his life...and she knows that his making a terrible mistake.

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Sadie grabbed the medical kit and pulled opened the desk drawer...finding a half empty bottle of vodka. "It's not morphine...but it will work." she muttered, sauntering to the still form of the Dark Knight...she crouched down...fingers swirled over his embossed bat insignia.

Batman's body quaked..vision was becoming caked with crimson flashes. His gloved hand grasped her upper arm. Argh..." he snarled, feeling the pressure of the bullet as his rib cage squeezed from a heavy breath intake. "You need to move fast." he said, blood brimming his bottom lip. "The suit isn't complicated..."

"I'll take your word for it," she said, her hand shaking as her fingers clutched the memory cloth. "I have to warn you...I'm not very good at saving people."

"So far...you're handling it well." Batman replied in a grinding breath. She smirked ripping the torso plate off and watched a pale graven chest rise and fall...blood stains were imbedded in the groves of thick muscle as she heard every breath struggle from his lips...she watched his eyes fluttered and then gasped as they suddenly closed.

She felt his grip on her arm loosening. "Shit," she blared out, pulling back her hair and resting her ear in the middle of his chest...his heart beat was strong...but skin cold. She worked fast and removed the lower half of the armor, hands grasping the blood drench thighs...eyes she gazed locked on his chest. "Okay armor is stripped off...now what?" she felt her own heart racing... looked at the bottle of Vodka at her side. "Hmm...I need a drink."

She grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap, rim touched her lips as she large gulp and swallowed. "Yep, still good." She then pulled herself closer to his head...used her fingers to part his lips and poured the distilled liquid down his throat. "Just a little something to dull the senses well I operate...consider it a substitute of morphine."

Batman gasped feeling the warm Vodka stream down his throat. He used his hand and slapped the bottle to the floor.

"What the Hell as that for?" she growled, rubbing her own hand.

"You're trying to get me wasted." He protested, clearing his throat and tried to ease his focus from the numbing pain.

"Um...yeah that's the idea...what else I'm I going to use as a pain killer."

"You have the First Aid kit..." he gulped down. "There's paracetamol and aspirin included with the tools that will assist you."

"And you decided to tell me all this now..." she flared, unzipping the case and pulling out the tools she needed for the surgery: gloves, tweezers and sterile gauze to absorb the blood.

"Okay so now what..." she breathed out, studying the scars and purple tinged bruises on his shoulders. Although the light inside the warehouse was dim she could see every detail of his sweat soaked body.

"Use the tweezers and grab the bullet." He wheezed out, senses were becoming dampen, lines of sweat sliding over the indentations of his chest. He bashed his eyes shut and listened to the hunting laugh echo into his mind. He felt the latex on her hands touch his cold skin.

"How deep is this damn bullet?" she drawled out, catching the stench of blood in her nostrils.

Batman took a moment to answer. "Deep enough..."

She rolled her eyes. "Well that's no help to me..." she took a deep breath, lifted up the tweezers and slowly sunk the metal tool into the swollen hole of his abdomen. "It smells..." she coughed.

"Relax ...it's just extra body fluids leaking out." He said, groaning as he felt bile rising in his throat. "I know that you can do this..." She clenched her jaw and moved the tweezers around into the fleshy wound until they latched on the bullet.

"I think I have the bullet." She said with relief in her tone, carefully with her steady hand she pulled the tweezers out and held up the bullet that shot out of the barrel of Harvey Dents gun. "Who would of thought that a tiny piece of metal can do so much damage." she narrowed her eyes to her handgun.

Batman remained silent...images of his parents being killed in Crime Alley flickered into his mind...his mother's pearls rolling into the blood filled puddles...the smell of gun powder... and the deafening screams. "A bullet does more damage than you think." His voice is stained and words slurring.

"I can see that," she said, setting the gauze over the bullet wound. "There all patched up..." her voice trailed watching his eyes flutter. She quickly placed her hand in the middle of his chest and felt his slow heart beat.

The blood was seeping through the gauze...his skin was becoming pale white.

Sadie leaned her head in closer to his chin. "You owe me," she seethed, placing both of her hands on the graphite sides of the cowl. "You owe big time Sleeping Beauty..." she crashed her lips over his lips and gave him a long kiss...then she pulled way licking her bottom lip.

Batman slowly opened his eyes and stared at her. ..the playboy persona was ignited by her kiss and curved his upper lip and groggily said. "You missed a spot."

She set her jaw hard and slapped her across his cowled face. "You damn bastard." she hissed. " I thought you were dying..."

"Not yet." he replied with a hint of a smirk and she smacked him again. "Ouch what was that for?"

"Never trifle with a woman's emotions handsome." she clenched her jaw, he saw the visible dent of her cheek bone. "Alright so I removed the bullet and give you a kiss...that doubles the amount you owe me."

"Better make it triple." he said, lifting his back off the rubber mat. She raised an eyebrow.

"Triple...mmph..." she moaned feeling his moist and soft lips pressed against her crimson plump blades as he plunged deeper into her mouth. She placed her hands agaisnt his chest and pushed him away. "Wait a minute...this wasn't part of the deal..."

"Consider this my way of saying thanks..." he rasped in her ear, giving her another smooth kiss, her fingers gripped the thick muscle of his chest pecks as her eyes slammed shut feeling the heat of his body enter her frame. Her hands moved to his shoulder...clutching muscle and flesh as a groan escaped from her lips.

Batman panted feeling the firmness of her swollen lips rubbed as his own...she seemed to be a well experience woman of romance...her lips were tasteful and warm unlike Rachel's which were cold to his touch.

She pulled away and placed a finger on the crease of his lips, as the sirens were getting louder. "See you around..." she rose from the floor and quickly vanished into the shadows. "Don't worry I'll find you..."

Batman's gloved fingers touched his lips. ..he pressed the radio transmitter in the cowls ear and spoke roughly. "Alfred need pick up...triangulate my location."

"Master Wayne are you experiencing any feverish symptoms?" Alfred's voice implied.

"The symptoms are not from the bullet wound...They're from something else." He said lightly, feeling her lips still lingering on his lips as his face give a blank neutral expression.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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Alfred Pennyworth, abandoning the running Rolls Royce, paced to the location of his charge, feeling vile creep up the walls of his throat as he saw a flashes from the passing GCPD patrol cars. He had been searching for a full hour now after he had lost contract with Bruce and finally, he entered through the garage doors feeling his heart throbbing as his shoes stepped into puddles of blood.

"Master Wayne," he whispered, eyes surveying the dark umbra of the complex. "Master Wayne - are you in here, sir?"

A chilling moan tore through the deadly silence. He followed the familiar low pitch sound and in the shadows, resting flat on his back with a mixture of blood and sweat, he had discovered his young master's battered body.

"Oh dear," Alfred wheezed out as he instantly crashed to his knees and shook the limp body, noticing blood soaked gauze on Batman's bare abdomen. "Sir, can you hear me?" He took the cowl off his young master's face that was drawn, ashen and glistening in sweat.

Bruce's eyes flickered as his lips unclasped spoke in a strained gravelly voice. "Alfred - too much blood..."

"You do look a little worst for wear I'm afraid." Alfred displayed a steady calmness looking at the crimson drenched gauze wrapped over Bruce's waist. "Did you do this, sir?" he asked lifting up the cotton and staring into the deep fleshy bullet hole. "You sure did make a bloody mess of yourself."

Bruce groaned. "It was a woman."

"Eh," Alfred raised an eyebrow, fixing the gauze.

"A…beautiful woman." He breathed out as Alfred slid a steadying arm under the younger man's shoulder. He gently lifted him from the floor as he urged him to glide towards the garage door, feeling the sticky blood stain his overcoat.

"She must've made quite the impression…if that's all you can think of in your current state," the butler teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Bruce gave him a withered look. His vision was foggy as the throbbing in his rib rage was increasing - barely allowing him to formulate a coherent answer. They reached the car and Alfred, despite his old age, lifted his battered young master into the backseat, easing him gently onto the leather seat.

"In you go, Master Wayne," Alfred spoke softly. "I just need to gather your armor and then we'll be off to the penthouse to stitch up those bloody wounds of yours." He glanced at the Bat-pod parked inside the garage. "What about the pod, sir?"

"Leave it." Bruce winced, feeling vomit creeping up his throat with the taste of vodka that Sadie poured into his mouth during his unconscious state. Right now his emotions were high from the life and death experiences he endured during the last twenty hours. He felt more vulnerable than ever before... He felt like he was falling deeper into the abyss as both anger and sorrow fueled his veins.

"Hold on sir," Alfred said slammed the door, and paced back to the warehouse. Bruce placed a gloved hand on the bare flesh of his stomach and took a few deep breaths; trying to ease the pain. He steadied his mind feeling slightly relaxed knowing that Alfred was at the helm and took control of the situation. He half-closed his eyes and watched Alfred slide into the driver's seat and shift the car into reverse.

* * *

The early hours of daylight crept onto the white walls of his Century Towers penthouse. Bruce stirred as slight discomfort etched over his deep-set brow; disturbed thoughts of the events he endured in the last few days flowed over his motionless sweaty body as intense waves of images of the anarchy worshiping psychopath filtered into his mind.

_"You've changed things; forever."_

_ Batman was sitting in the MCU holding cell, his hazel eyes boring into the unpredictable dark gaze of mass murdering clown. Reflections of their forms were captured in the two-way mirror as they sat across from each other._

_ The Joker licked his marred lips and narrowed his eyes on Batman - waiting for the masked vigilante to snap._

_ Batman felt his blood boiling his eyes squinted into a fierce stare."Then why do you want to kill me?"_

_ The Joker laughed and then started to sob, "Kill you? I don't want to kill you. What would I do without you... Go back to ripping off mob dealers? No - you..." He jabbed a blood stained finger at Batman."You complete me!"_

_ With his lips formed into a straight line, revealing indented dimples near the edges of his mouth, Batman knew that the painted freak was just like Alfred said in the bunker. This man couldn't be reasoned with words, couldn't be thrown into a prison cell. He was crazed terrorist that wanted the streets of Gotham to be covered with the blood of all the good people he murdered just for the hell of it._

_ Batman curved his lips and released the truth. "You're garbage who kills for money."_

_ "Don't talk like you're one of them," the Joker barked." You're not; even if you'd like to be." He leaned in closer, looking directly into the flaming eyes underneath the graphite slits. "To them you're just a freak." He smacked his red lips together. "Like me. They just need you right now. But as soon as they don't…" his lips tightened, tongue glazing his yellowish teeth. "They'll cast you out...like a leper."_

_ Batman seethed through his clenched teeth, his gloved hand squeezed into a fist as he listened to the torturous taunt. _

_ The Joker continued. "You'll watch every piece of you dissolve away... until there's nothing left; just insanity. All you will want to do is laugh while everything burns."_

Bruce awoke up with a gasp when cold latex gloves touched his side and he started thrashing, feeling the coldness of tap water land on his graven chest. Alfred was cleaning the knife wound thoroughly before he lightly bandaged and alleviated the deep laceration on his skin.

"I'm going to close the wound now; in case any fluid accumulates...We can't risk infection." An older woman's voice addressed. "He's already fighting a high fever."

Bruce squinted at the light stinging his eyes and quickly he realized he was half-naked in bed, wearing only sleep pants snug around his waist. A pair of calm familiar crystal blue eyes looked down at him.

He turned his throbbing neck and took in the sight of rolls of gauze and medical scissors on the nightstand with blood drenched towels - a dark crimson. A cold cloth rested on his clammy forehead as he stared into the face of an elegant English woman with short blonde hair - Doctor Leslie Thompkins - an old friend of his father.

"Leslie," he rasped; his voice hoarse from the lack of use.

The old woman nodded. "Hello boy, it's been a long time." she said gripping his shoulder lightly. "What on earth have you gotten yourself into?" she asked, as Alfred's careful fingers placed a piece of gauze on Bruce's torso.

"Master Wayne has been hanging out in the wrong clubs again...Isn't that right, sir?" Alfred quickly interrupted as he handed Dr. Tompkins a syringe filled with anesthetic. Bruce nodded stiffly as he felt the needle push through layers of skin as the older woman administered the injection.

"Okay young man, there seems to internal damage from the knife wound. Just a simple tear of muscle which will easily heal - but it might leave a scar," her blue eyes surveyed his fading scars and bruises. "Judging from the collection on your chest, I don't think you'll mind another addition," she paused. "Now for the other wound, it is much deeper - to close than the one on your torso, Bruce. Right now you're suffering the symptoms of a severe fever."

Bruce, with a grimace, pulled himself up on the propped pillows. "Do what you have to, Leslie." He winced, feeling faint chills stream through his veins from the infection his body was currently fighting.

Leslie placed her gloved hand on his drenched cheek. "We'll get you all stitched up in no time." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Now does anything else hurt?"

"My head," he replied. "My knee hurts." The doctor turned her attention to his legs that were bruised; one had the bone of the knee cap popping out. "How bad... is it?"

"I don't have the proper equipment to determine the damage...But it appears that your knee may be fractured," she sighed. "How in the bloody hell did this happen, Bruce? You're too nice of a boy to suffer these external injuries."

Bruce swallowed before he spoke, looking into her concerned blue eyes. Realizing a heavy sigh, he parted his lips and said in three simple words, "I'm Batman...Leslie."

"Oh...well that explains a lot." She said, sounding a bit surprised before turning a cold glare towards Alfred. "And you didn't bother to bloody tell me, Pennyworth?"

Alfred felt like he was in a tight spot. "I wasn't place to, Leslie... Keeping Master Wayne's identity has always been my first priority." The doctor nodded then settled her eyes back onto Bruce.

"Well right now your only priority is helping me piece this young man back together." She said calmly. "Be a kind dear and pass me that needle and thread." She placed her hand on Bruce's forehead. "Fetch a cold cloth...His fever is increasing."

Dr. Tompkins kept her composure steady as her sharp blue eyes looked into Bruce's. She still could not believe that the child she helped Thomas Wayne deliver in the regency room at Gotham General was the masked vigilante she read about in the Gotham news that beat criminals to a bloody pulp with his bare hands. "Alright Bruce, now close your eyes and let me work my magic."

Bruce gave a trusting nod. He brought his arm over his eyes to block out the light. The effects of medicine were making him drift into a sleep. He listened to Alfred's voice and felt Lesile's gentle touch give him another dose of anesthetic, and then the third that made his body sufficiently numb.

"We have to make an incision, Alfred." She said, looking at the seeping wound of Bruce's abdomen. "There are left-over fragments of the bullet and something that appears to be rubber imbedded in his muscle tissue."

"Kevlar," Alfred answered. "From his bat suit."

She sighed, slightly irradiated. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"Nothing I can think of," Alfred charmed, as he watched Leslie's steady hand make a cut. A sharp hiss of breath escaped from the young man's breath as his body jerked. She immediately attended to the fresh blood flow. Alfred handed her a pad of gauze. One hand dabbed the excess blood from the incision and the other deftly handled the forceps as she fished for the fragments of metal inside the slippy tissue, grasping the lingering pieces.

"There we go...Just a quick wash, a few stitches and we'll be done." She turned to Alfred. "We make a good team don't we, Pennyworth?"

"That we do...Dr. Thompkins."

Bruce's eyes opened a crack and his lips curved into a tiny smile. He drifted back into sleep knowing that he was in good hands...Despite everything that happened in the past hours, he never felt more safe as the two experienced English medics and family friends finished stitching his wounds. He heard Alfred's somber tone rattle in his ears.

"Be strong, Master Wayne...Be strong."

* * *

At ten in the morning, a young blonde - wearing light frame-glasses and dressed in a white blouse and skirt - folded her petite shapely body from the driver's seat of her inferno red Mercedes Benz. She grabbed her briefcase from the backseat and crossed the asphalt lot to the front gate of the architectural monstrosity called Arkham Asylum. She looked at the barred windows with fascination captured in her brown eyes.

The man inside the guardhouse peered at her through the Plexiglas window. He slid open the window and asked for her ID card. Hastily she scuffled through her purse and pulled out the photo; smacking the small piece of plastic on the window. He nodded and buzzed her in. She swayed her curvy hips past the guarded house and buzzed through under steel door, and was met inside by the buildings head-therapist: Dr. Joan Leland.

"Dr. Quinzel, I'm Joan Leland." The older raven haired woman said.

"Hi, Joan," the young psychologist said, stretching out her hand. "Call me Harley. All my other colleagues do." She smiled, listening to the tortured minds of the inmates echo down the long hallways. "Looks like I have a lot of work cut out for me," she ejected as Dr. Leland started the tour.

"Most of the inmates here, Harley, are patients suffering from anti-social behavior and negligence that diminished their capacity for remorse.

"No other words - they are psychopaths," Harley replied, crossing her arms protectively over her chest as she followed Dr. Leland down the corridors. "I've done many case studies in New York on patients with narcissistic personality disorders, megalomania and aggression. I know what I'm up against, Dr. Leland, with these inmates."

Dr. Leland creased her eyebrows for a moment as she turned around and met Harley's dark brown eyes. "I'm glad that you have confidence in yourself, Dr. Quinzel. And from your case files that I looked over...you have an impressive history with sociopaths and schizophrenic minds." she swallowed. "The patients behind these cell doors are not for your usual treatments. They are dangerous criminals that find any weakness for manipulation. You must always be alert and never let your guard down."

"I understand," Harley nodded, shifted her eyes to a wire-reinforced cell door window. She peered at the sixty year old man strapped to an elevated bed, dressed in an orange jumper and staring blankly into dead space as his wrinkled lips quivered. "Who is this patient?" she asked, listening to the muttering words escaping from his fanatic voice.

"He's a victim of another inmate's scare tactic. Carmine Falcone."

"The patient appears to be suffering from a delusional state of mind." Harley observed. "I've done research on a sadistic former psychiatrist that worked here; Dr. Johnathan Crane - whose primary field was psycho-pharmacology. Last I heard about him, he was taken down by the vigilante murderer known as 'the Batman?'"

Dr. Leland lowered her eyes. "Dr. Crane is now a permanent patient of Arkham; as is as our newest addition that will remain behind closed doors."

Harley arched an eyebrow. "You have him here, don't you?" she irked. "The maniacal criminal mastermind that almost gained control over Gotham." She felt a spark flicker in her chest. "The one that they can't pull up any records to prior...The Joker."

"We don't call him by the name. All Arkham staff here is instructed to call him Jack."

"I understand," Harley answered. She turned her gaze to the last door down the hall where two armed guards stood dressed in bullet-proof equipment as a haunting laugh blared through the air. She bit her bottom lip and muttered out the name formulating on the tip of her tongue. "Jack."

* * *

A dormant conscience grasped over her slender body as "the Cat", a highly efficient and practical female larcenist who roamed across rooftops and jumped from high-rise windows, always landing with perfect feline balance on her heels. She used her skilled intellect, hyperaware senses and precision for her daring heists when invading the personal space of her victims.

Tonight she was breaking and entering another penthouse to support her finances in escaping to Monaco, and a year's worth of living expenses - including her distinct tastes in designer fashion.

Her big crimson lips curled into a coy smile as the updraft of wind twirled her dark strands of auburn. She felt the hunger racing in her veins; the cravings of splurging on the riches of Gotham's social elite even though she knew that this idea was incredibility stupid and risky.

Sharp-bladed stiletto heels clicked on the floor as she scanned the area for any sign of movement. Her photographic memory replayed the image when she observed her target's jewelry from months back.

Raging thoughts of Batman clouded her mind. "That pointed-eared bastard," she grumbled, realizing she had gotten her share of profit from what owed her in removing the bullet from his body. "I should've left that damn bullet in him..."

The question that seeped in her clever mind was: why can't I stop thinking about his self-righteous ass? She thought to herself as she opened a compartment of her belt and stared at the collection of fine jewelry she sacked twenty-minutes before. Misconceptions ravaged her mind; the urge to steal was growing stronger.

The penthouse was somewhat empty - a few security guards lurking on different levels. She heard movement coming down the hall and quickly she used her stealth tactics and agility to pin her body against the wall; blending in with her dark surroundings.

Her infrared goggles scanned for body heat while she observed every spot in surveying the area. To her surprise, there was no visible sign of men in uniforms or the inhabitants of the living space. "Perfect," she purred, not realizing that her slender body was drawing her closer to unknown territory.

Selina entered the master bedroom; a similar room to Veronica Vreeland 's Gold Tower penthouse apartment except hers was luxurious and gave a perfect view of Gotham's skyline. She slipped inside -unnoticed and silent. Her dark brown eyes stared at the slumbering form of an older man - Marcus Tomsmane - the same rich twit she shared a drink with at the Gotham Arms Hotel. Only two things made her feel satisfied that night: first indulging on a few glasses of expensive aged wine and secondly, stealing a few wallets from gullible suckers.

She moved to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer - scuffling through socks and boxers.

"Men are so disorganized." She smiled and pulled out a long jewelry case. "Wife leaves her diamonds behind again?" Her voice was surly as she stuffed the pieces of jewelry - diamond earrings and a golden chained necklace - into a compartment near her left hip. "And here I thought women never leave home without them? Too... bad." she played out. "They'll look beautiful with my little black dress."

Selina drew closer to the bed and peered at the hearing aide lodged in Tomsmane's ear. She shook her head. "Between me and you – you're terrible at conversation, but also a big spender."

In saying that, she slid back into the shadows and pridefully made her way down the hall. Within moments she was closing in on her entry point, grasping the gentle breeze and feeling contentment with her time well spent looting penthouses. "Damn I'm good," she muttered, crouching to the opened window.

All of a sudden, the lights flicked on and she cocked her head and saw Tomsmane standing in a bathrobe with a gun pointed at her.

"Hello, handsome," she purred in a sizzling tone. "It's been awhile."

He jerked a little and his shaky hands lowered his pistol, azure blue eyes surveying over her tight-fitting foam latex suit and domino mask. "Why have you invaded my home?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I thought perhaps we could finish our drink."

Tomsmane raised a white eye brow. "I know who you are." He moved closer and placed the gun on the glass coffee-table. She narrowed her eyes at his firearm.

Selina smacked her lips together. "Oh?"

"You're that cat burglar, the jewel thief...The bitch that stole from the Vreeland's."

"I guess the cat is out of the bag." She shot back, grinning devilishly. "Don't tell me that I have a secret admirer..." She pulled out a handgun strapped to her right thigh and pointed the barrel at his chest. "Look - I'm a reasonable woman...but I can easily turn." Her finger rested on the trigger. "So don't tempt me, handsome."

Tomsmane swallowed thickly. "Okay-I mean you're off the hook. I won't call the police or question you."

"Works every time," she muttered under her breath and swayed her curvy hips closer. "A word of advice; next time your faithful wife goes to an exotic island...make sure she brings her diamonds with her."

"Diamonds?" he turned his head in the direction of the master bedroom then focused his lustful gaze back to young masked brunette only to find, with much disappointment, that she had vanished.

* * *

Sick. He felt downright sick. He had been drifting in and out of a nightmare that took a turn for the worst as memories of Harvey Dent's marred face flashed in his subconsciousness. Bruce couldn't remember the clear details but he did remember the sound of a gun blaring off in the darkness and the screams of a panic-stricken Barbara Gordon cradling her daughter's body as she watched Two-Face place the gun on her son's temple; leaving chance to decide the boy's fate in those heart wrenching seconds.

It took him a few moments of decision whether he wanted to open his eyelids as the crimson fog was clearing from his mind, revealing images of the young brunette who reluctantly decided to remove the bullet. Her alluring dark brown eyes concealed with shadow, straight auburn hair and plump crimson lips. "I kissed her," his voice broke through the silence as he bashed his eyes open. There was no going back to sleep now. He allowed them to set their blurry focus on the view of the tall buildings behind the glass panes of his bedroom window. Inside his eyes stung as he quickly brought up a hand to rub them.

His other hand's fingers traced over his lips. "I kissed her," he repeated in a gravelly voice, knowing that it was the most reckless and daring gesture that he ever did with a woman while wearing the graphite cowl.

Bruce peeled his eyes to open all the way. He was surprised that there was no onslaught of sunlight streaming through the row of windows. "Perhaps I slept longer than three o'clock," he muttered knowing the pain killing drugs Leslie injected him with knocked him out for at least eight hours. Turning his head, he caught a view of a brewing thunderstorm; shrouded thick clouds of its fury hung over Gotham.

He turned his neck and found Alfred at his usual post - sitting by the bedside reading the morning paper with a silver serving tray on the nightstand that had a few bottles of aspirin and small bowl of fresh fruit. When the butler looked to find his master awake, he folded the paper and broke into a smile as he rose up.

"Good afternoon, Master Wayne. How are you feeling?"

Bruce took a collection of mental notes as he felt the stiffness in his bones, dull aches in his legs and the sharp spasms in his stomach. "Lousy...sore," he answered in a hoarse tone. He managed to focus on a black cane leaning against the nightstand. "What's that for?" He knitted his thick brows with puzzlement.

"Dr. Tompkins ran over your X-ray report this morning," Alfred said softly. "She said that you banged up your knee pretty badly than she expected that she as rendered it to be broken."

Bruce narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "So I'm a cripple."

"No...No, Master Wayne...You just need to use this cane until you regain mobility in the leg."

The thirty-one year old billionaire felt the urge to heave out a sigh as he mulled over that for a moment. "What's my excuse for the press?"

"You were in a car wreck, as you recall from saving Colman Reese, and suffered a few mild injuries and a fractured leg. I had Lucius Fox state this to the board members and your smashed Lamborghini is still at the crash site."

Bruce suddenly felt an emptiness inside the pit of his stomach as frustration started to spread through his body. Weeks. it would be weeks before he could feel normal and gain his strength back. He knew that resting in bed was his best option now that he was a rogue criminal...an outcast...scapegoat to a lie that was used to restore faith back into the good people that believed in Harvey Dent.

He felt bitterness lace over his tongue as he muttered, looking at the cane. "Why was it me that lost everything?"

* * *

Inside her grubby ram shack apartment, Selina sat at the vanity dressed in a black sweater with a pencil in hand counting her financial profit that she collected at a local pawn shop for Marcus Tomsmane's wife's diamonds. Her eyes shifted to her closet-spaced bedroom filled with piles of rare books she stole from libraries, art collections, and rows of designer-store window displayed clothing. She cringed, feeling a slight embarrassment towards her current dwelling. Her high octane survival skills were the main reason why she hadn't taken a dirt-nap by now. Every night she was tempted to bail out of this dead beat city and start fresh without giving up her talents of deceit, stealth and precision.

A disturbance of sirens outside interrupted her thoughts.

She closed the case and picked up her handgun resting on the dresser. Gingerly, she moved to the window, pulling back the curtains slightly as her polished fingers rested on the trigger. She looked down below at a few prostitutes mounted on the curb being searched by GCPD. She crossed her arms. "Why am I not surprised," she grumbled under hear breath, catching a glimpse of a patrol chopper flying above with its bright searchlight pointing directly into the compressed alleyways of the decaying Old Town neighborhood.

The apartment door suddenly opened and a petite strawberry blonde teenager named Holly Jennifer Robinson, who preferred to be called Jen, closed the door behind her. Her flaxen curls tumbled past her shoulders as she closed the door behind her. She wore a dark green halter-top and a mini-skirt. Her lips were smeared with lipstick as her hazel eyes bore at Selina. "Quite a commotion out here."

"Yeah," Selina placed her weapon back on the dresser. "It will die out in a few minutes."

"Those bitches are clueless." Jen said, moving to the cramped kitchen and opening the fridge door. She grabbed a chocolate milk and drained it quickly. "But not as clueless as the asshole I ripped off tonight."

Selina smirked. "You never fail to impress me, kid." she opened the dresser's top door and pulled out an envelope, counting a few bills quickly. "Listen, I'm going to be out most of the night." She glanced at the dried blood stains from Batman on her leather jacket. She pulled off her sweater, threw it to the floor then pulled on a black tank-top with lace. "The place is yours...Try not to make a mess."

She raised her sleek calf on the stool and strapped her gun around her thigh.

Jen nodded. "Where are you heading out too? In case I need to reach you?"

"Seeing a few old friends," Selina answered with a light smile. She grabbed her jacket off her mattress and moved to the balcony door. "Remember to lock the door."

Jen rolled her eyes. "Alright, Miss paranoia." she teased, watching the older woman slip through the balcony doorway and walked down the wooden steps of the fire escape.

* * *

The afternoon rain drenched his dark chocolate strands; Bruce faltered his steps as he staggered down the isle of marble markers, his cane tussled through the dry leaves as he stalled in front of a marker bearing the name of Rachel Dawes. His face was gaunt and drawn. Dark shadows formed around his deep-set hazel eyes as he lowered his head, feeling his eyes brim with tears. He stared down at the plain stone that had the name of his childhood sweetheart etched across. Red and white roses were piled on top of the unsettled ground.

"I'm sorry Rachel," he said in a delicate tone, shutting his eyes painfully tight as he allowed the rain to soak through his overcoat. His knees gave out slowly; he crashed onto the moist ground, face falling into his hands as warm tears streamed down his jagged cheeks. "Rachel...I failed you."

He pounded his fists into the ground. "I've failed you!" He shouted, his voice straining as nightmarish images of her remains being zipped up into a blue bag body flowed intensely in his mind. "I let that sick fucking bastard..." he half-snarled, derived words escaping from his curled lips. "Now I have your blood on my hands because you put your faith in me to save you," he swallowed. "And I couldn't..."

Bruce gritted his teeth together, making his jaw become inflamed as vexatious emotions surged through his entire body. It was an agonizing sense knowing that he failed the one person that he loved...The person he wanted to be with when his crusade as Batman was finished. He felt numb as he lifted his watery eyes and looked at her name.

He pulled out the arrow head stone from his coat's pocket and gently placed the friendship gift among the roses. "Finders keepers," he choked out as his mind replayed the Joker's gleeful laugh echoing in his ears while her existence became a pile of ash that he watched in the flames from a distance.

The sound of footfalls sinking in the drenched grass jarred his attention. He felt the throbbing in his right knee burn into the muscle and flesh. He turned with a wrathful stare at Alfred holding an umbrella.

A few minutes passed before Alfred spoke. "Master Wayne, do you need some assistance? You shouldn't be putting weight on that knee. You're only making the damage worse."

Bruce narrowed his gaze and shook his head densely. He wasn't going to let his current infliction hamper him. "I don't need help." He replied, fingers gripping the handle of his cane. He pushed all his weight and gathered himself slowly up, leaning forward on his good leg, trying to ignore the annoying aches and throbs as he wobbly rose to his feet.

Alfred glanced at Rachel's grave and quickly attended to his master, shielding the young man's soaked body with the umbrella. Bruce instantly scoffed the gesture and sorrowfully limped with his head was drooping into the downpour to the running Rolls Royce.

* * *

Inside the laboratory of Gotham forensics; Doctor Vanessa Pierce, an investigative pathologist, was finishing up looking over DNA samples that were a part of the collection of evidence that her forensics team collected from the crime scene Harvey Dent's body was found. She was suddenly disturbed by a gentle tapping on the lab's door. She quickly lifted her piercing blue eyes and adjusted her glasses.

"Can I help you?" she asked with strict manner as the lights flicked on and she found herself staring into the dark smoky brown eyes of a young brunette. "Selina Kyle," she pursed her lips. "It's been a long time."

Selina shrugged her shoulders. "Look I didn't come for a social call," she threw the jacket on the desk. "I came to have a blood stain analyzed. "Dr. Pierce folded her arms and released a heavy sigh. She walked to the desk and lifted up the jacket.

"What will I be testing for, Selina," The tall chestnut haired doctor clenched her jaw, setting her sharp eyes down at the dried splotches of blood. "I have enough workload piled up on me with the Dent murder. This better be important."

"Believe me it is," Selina said, glancing over at the coffee stained files from the Gotham Police City Department. They were titled with printed words: "Murder, kidnapping, aggravated assault of a peace officer." She rubbed her lips together as her brown eyes showed curiosity at fade out photos of the anonymous masked vigilante that she shared a kiss with in the warehouse a few nights before. She could still feel the lingering touch of his soft lips.

Dr. Pierce observed Selina's sudden interest with the documents. "Don't tell me that the infamous Selina Kyle has an interest in a man that is considered to be armed and dangerous." She smirked lightly. "You should know that the commissioner has issued a warrant for his arrest, but the Mayor wants all the officers to shoot or kill on sight if they come in contact with the Batman."

Selina creased her eyebrows. "How did Dent get iced?"

"Cervical fracture...All neck bones were broken resulting with instant death. The Batman did a sudden twist of his neck." Dr. Pierce explained moving towards a microscope where she placed the leather sleeve under the lens and turned the knobs, starting her observation.

Selina lifted up the document and read the bottom caption under her breath while a faint chill trickled down her spine. "If you have any information regarding the identity and whereabouts of the Batman, please contact…"

"Do you want me to profile the blood sample?" Dr. Pierce asked, turning around and looking at Selina. "It'll only take a few minutes to find the match in the data base."

"Um yeah...Why do think I came all the way down here?"

"Alright. First I'm going to take a small sample of deoxyribonucleic acid to determinate the physical traits of your mystery person." She turned her focus back to the lens and quickly ran a few more tests before moving to the computer screen and waiting for the results.

Selina could feel the anticipation rising in her veins as she watched the doctor's fingers dance on the keyboard. Her gaze became glued to the screen as Dr. Pierce pulled up a photo on the screen.

Dr. Pierce's eyes widened as she turned around and stared at Selina with unsettled confusion. Both women looked at the picture of the handsome dark haired, hazel-eyed man as she read out the information. "Bruce Thomas Wayne..."

Selina's squeezed her fist and flashed her eyes angrily. "That bastard," she seethed, staring at his current address. "Hmm...I think I'm going to pay Mr. Wayne a personal visit."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Selina woke up the next morning to the sound of the slamming of the door. She knew Jen had left to do her late morning rounds at the East End. She squinted at the light streaming from the window. With a groan of annoyance, she threw the covers off her body and gingerly moved to peek out the window, to find the teen crossing the street. She shook her head and turned around to look at the clothing scattered along the apartment floorboards. She rolled her eyes with heated annoyance as she quickly gathered them up and tossed them onto Jen's couch. She felt like an older sister to the teenager, spending most of her mornings cleaning up the piles of clothing on the floors and empty foundation bottles left in the corner bathroom's sink. She narrowed her eyes down at the pair of jeans her fingers were gripping tightly, and noticed a stuffed piece of paper in the pocket.

Pulling the wrinkled paper out, Selina scanned through the scribble of phone numbers and addresses that piqued her interest. She crunched the paper in her fist and threw the pants on the floor.

She tried not to think of the worst outcome about her friend's secret motives and the unnerving thoughts about the man she saved from bleeding to death; fighting against her desire to yank off the cowl and discover the true face. But she respected his privacy and allowed her selfish actions to be deluded by a warm kiss on the lips from the rogue vigilante and billionaire playboy.

She made herself a small breakfast of whole grain toast. Naturally she wasn't a breakfast person, and she couldn't suppress the growls of hunger. She spread the remaining jam on the light toasted bread then moved to the couch. Placing the plate down, she opened her lap top and sank her body into the firm cushions. Her dark brown eyes scanned the details, for her next heist, that she managed to hack from a few databases from a number of auctions taken place recently.

Looking at number codes on the screen, her eyebrows creased. She plugged in the Jpeg and promptly pressed the download button, watching the green progress bar fill on the screen.

As she waited for the download to be complete, her inquisitive mind drove her fingertips to brush across the keys as she quickly typed the name of the man she was preparing to give a midnight visit to, once her current heist was accomplished. She clicked on the old articles concerning the thirty-one year old billionaire and read up on the recent column that stated the details of his car accident. Rolling her eyes, she scoffed at the printed lies that his assistant addressed in the article. She closed the laptop and straightened up onto her feet. She moved to an empty space with a yoga mat and a few five pound weights resting on the bookshelf. Stripping off her pullover, wearing a black tank over her breasts, she dropped to the floor and started her morning routine of intense exercises.

She had too much on her mind to even think about Bruce Wayne. There was so much that she wanted to know about him. The odd desire of kissing him sparked inside as her as her mind replayed the memory of their intimate moment in the warehouse. Her tongue licked over her lips as the lingering taste of his soft and warm lips was still pasted on her crimson flesh, and also the agreement of getting her score settled by the check he promised to write up for her - after she performed surgery and saved his sorry ass from blood infection. "That lying cheap ass bastard," she seethed, taking a few deep breaths.

She started doing a few abdomen crunches - panting as sweat rolled down until it reached the crease of her lips and she tasted salt. After another set of tight crunches, she lifted up from the floor.

Moments later, she was in the shower, enjoying the beads of hot water pouring against her back and thankful that she paid this month's rent. She turned off the water and squeezed her drenched strands while looking down at her fading scars on her legs; past experiences of dancing with the devils wielding knives, needles and bullets. She was never afraid to be kicked down. She never stopped as her body bled and she was never afraid to walk alone on the cold and stormy roads.

Selina dried the excess water off her skin and exited the bathroom with the towel wrapped around her body. She shuffled through the cramped clothes and picked out a holster top and jeans. Quickly, she dressed and wrapped her hair into a pony tail before slipping out onto the fire escape, wanting to be unseen and unheard as her heels touched the ground.

* * *

Alfred entered the master bedroom of the Century Towers penthouse and soon became disgusted at the sight of every butler's horror: piles of dress shirts, socks and pants tossed on the floor. He shook his head, trying to keep a calm composure, and gently placed the breakfast tray on the nightstand. He quickly realized the bed was empty and a groan to his left drove his eyes to the other side of the bed.

"Good morning, Master Wayne," he witty grinned. He inched his footing and took in the sight of his master lying on his side with his arm crooked and tucked under his head, half-naked and wincing at the sunlight.

Bruce fluttered his eyes and groggily yawned as he awoke unwillingly to the strict gaze of Alfred Pennyworth. "Another long night of your nocturnal actives with the television, sir?"

Bruce rolled onto his back and Alfred sat down on the edge of the bed, watching his master's eyes squeeze shut. Bruce's jaw clenched while his hands gripped the sheets hanging off the mattress. His body stiffened. "What time is it?" he asked with a slight rasp. "How did I end up onto the floor?" He furrowed his brows and looked at Alfred's shrugging response.

"I have no idea Master Wayne." The butler replied, looking at his wrist watch. "It appears that you slept in until noon...This is starting to become a bad habit of yours."

"I didn't know that you were keeping track of my habits." Bruce said, gasping in pain.

"Master Wayne is everything alright. Do you need another aspirin?"

Bruce stubbornly shook his head. "I'm fine."

Alfred looked at him skeptically but did not speak until the young man tried to regain strength in his battered body before immediately crashing to the floor with a loud grunt of pain. "You would be happy to know that I'm not allowing you to leave this room until you're properly healed."

"I work through pain," Bruce breathed out of frustration. "I should have slept in the chair-"

"Come on, Master Wayne," Alfred said, reaching out a hand to Bruce. "Stop being so hard yourself, sir. Pick yourself up." He helped the young man pull up into a sitting position, listening to the quick pants of breath. "Dr. Thompkins will be arriving soon to give you the full report on your injuries."

Bruce was still wincing; he slammed his eyes and nodded. "I was planning on seeing Fox."

"Why in the bloody hell would you do that? The entire Gotham police force want you arrested and locked away. How are you going to convince the general public that your injuries were from a car crash, when you can't even walk on your own two feet, sir?"

Bruce gave Alfred a withered look. "I'll just have to improvise for now." He gritted his teeth and slowly straightened up off the floor. "Call Leslie and tell her to cancel my appointment for today… Reschedule for tomorrow." His attention was drawn to the front page of the newspaper on the nightstand. Arching an eyebrow, he limped over to the other side of the bed and read the article.

"Find anything interesting?" Alfred asked.

Bruce lifted the paper and scanned the printed headline: "Commissioner James Gordon Calls a Press Conference at the Courthouse." He threw the paper on the floor and lost his balance, crashing his injured leg against the bed frame.

"Urgh-" he groaned, rubbing his swollen knee. "I need throw in public face time at the press conference."

"I think you've reached your limits for today, sir." Alfred said with a sympathetic voice, lifting up an unfolded shirt and placing it on the bed. "You need to stay off your feet until the swelling is down. Leslie will be here any moment... I am not shuttering her out of this, Master Wayne. She canceled a few of her appointments to check up on you. I suggest you get dressed."

"You're planning on keeping me a prisoner up here," Bruce replied, making an effort to button up his dress shirt.

"If it will keep you from banging up that other leg of yours," Alfred answered, with a light smile as the buzzer from the elevator echoed in the halls. "I believe that is Dr. Thompkins, sir."

"So it would seem," Bruce noticed as the old butler's cheeks were turning rosy. "You look flushed, Alfred." He smirked faintly. "Do you want me to show Leslie in?"

"Unless you have an English accent and white hair...I'll bloody attend to the lovely Dr. Thompkins."

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "Lovely?"

Alfred's face was becoming as red a tomato and his voice reached a high octave. He cleared his throat. "Dr. Thompkins is a remarkable a woman of profession. I have the highest respect for her." He watched the smirk fully play out on his young master's lips; clearly Bruce was enjoying the situation. "I'll-" He felt tongue tied. "Go and see to Dr. Thompkins. I want you to get back in bed. She'll give me the cold shoulder if she catches you brooding near the windows."

Bruce nodded. "Okay," he said, sliding his body onto the covers and leaning his back against the headboard.

Alfred briefly nodded and strode out into the hall, leaving the young billionaire as he mused about his current affections for the wonderful and compassionate Doctor Leslie Thompkins; a generous orphan that was raised by a sisterhood of nuns in a small church in the mountains of Switzerland. She spent her entire life serving humanity – first through being a nurse for the British Red Cross during the Second World War, then missions in the jungles of South America and deserts South Africa. She was commended with the Florence Nightingale medal and received the highest honors of any female doctor for both England and America. Instead of enjoying retirement, she became a dedicated doctor who worked full time at the Thomas Wayne Medical Clinic. She also volunteered at the homeless shelter and attended to patients that couldn't afford proper treatments of health care.

He often wondered if Alfred ever chose to ask a woman for her hand in marriage - would it be Leslie's hand?

* * *

"Alfred was telling me that you've been acting stubborn, young man." A warm English tone grabbed his attention. He found Doctor Leslie Thompkins standing rooted by the dresser in a light blue blazer and holding a leather medical bag. "But then you've always been stubborn, even as a little boy." She walked in with an intrigued look on her delicate face.

Bruce straightened up and beamed a light smile at the older woman who was a mother figure to him and taught him English Literature and war history. "Actually...I think some of Alfred's stubbornness rubbed off on me."

"Indeed. Alfred Pennyworth is one of the most stubborn hearted Englishmen I have ever known in my lifetime. He is also a good friend in a time of need." She walked to Bruce's bedside and lowered her head as she set out to check his body, purposely avoiding the twinkling eyes of Alfred who was carrying a tray of Earl Grey tea in his hands. She lifted up the bandage and peered at the stitching. "Your wound looks like it's been healing properly. You still have to keep the stitches for a couple of weeks...We can't risk a serious inflection - not when you're having feverish symptoms." She pressed his side bandage. "Still tender?"

Bruce winced, which wasn't a good sign of recovery. "It's painful, but I imagine that it could have been a lot worse."

Leslie shook her head. "It would have been fatal if the bullet entered your internal organs. By the way, young man, how did you remove the bullet without a medical adviser?"

Bruce's lips clasped shut as Leslie flashed him a questioning stare. He shifted his gaze at Alfred, shrugging his shoulders. "A beautiful woman removed the bullet with my instructions in a warehouse. I'm yet to repay her…"

"I see," Leslie interrupted. "She must've had some medical experience."

"Don't know." He rubbed his eyes and then glared intensely at the cane. "Do you have anything else to support my knee other than the cane?"

She chuckled lightly. "As a matter of fact - I do Bruce. I figured that your vanity and head strong temper would refuse to lug around a walking stick." She opened her medical bag and pulled out a knee brace. "This orthosis extends below the knee joint, and it will give your leg stability as it will enhance the position and the movement of the knee. But I will advise that you use the cane, it will maintain the balance of your body if you decide to secluded yourself from the public eye."

"Well we wouldn't want to make things to easy," Bruce said, watching her open a package of syringes. " How will it hold out when standing for a long period of time?"

"Depends on the actives that you exercise your body with," she rubbed his arm, searching for a vein. "You should do fine when standing. Nothing too extreme." she advised, filling the needle up with clear liquid. "Now I'm going to inject you with pain reducing medication. You might feel a little out of sorts for a few hours." She withdrew the needle into the vein and watched his brows creased. "There you are… Now I strongly advise you, if you intend to go out into the city, have Alfred drive you around since your vision might become foggy. But other than that, you're doing quite well and I will see you on the weekend to remove the stitching."

She stood up straight and smiled at Alfred who was standing behind her. "Well gentlemen, I'm off to the clinic. I have a young patient who is fighting a high fever and needs antibiotics." She nodded, zipping up her equipment. "Alfred - always a pleasure,"

Alfred returned her smile. "Dr. Thompkins." He settled his eyes down at Bruce, and watched a small smile play on the corners of the young man's mouth.

* * *

One hour later, Selina was in a dressing room adjusting the slip of a new attention to her collection; an eye-catching, black hip-hugging dress that caught her eye in a small fashion boutique not far from Wayne Tower. This one she chose to purchase instead of making a hassle of stealing it. She admired the satin; smirking, knowing that it would have been an easy swipe because the cashier was always preoccupied with her own self image. She wouldn't even notice the missing dress. Also the security system was shot, but Selina didn't mind splurging some rich-twit's cash with her distinct taste in uptown fashion.

When she pulling out the wad of crisp bills to pay for the dress, her eyes glanced at the Gotham Tribute magazine stashed behind the register. The handsome face of Bruce Wayne was on the glossy cover. Rolling her eyes, Selina handed the sales associate the amount of the cash from her wallet. She overheard the conversation between two older graying haired women speaking amongst themselves with loud and annoying voices, "I can't believe that the police haven't caught the Batman. What is our tax money paying them for? I doubt that they're even trying to arrest that monster...and yes Commissioner Gordon is holding a press conference to the public about this matter. Why should I attend when they are no signs of progress?"

Selina smiled and shook her head with amusement as she listened to the remainder of their bickering. She took the bagged dress from the clueless staffer, and when she turned around, she smirked at the two women before walking out of the doors.

As she walked, a muffled whimper sparked her attention. She looked around, and drew an icy glare to a few buildings across. She angled her body to walk the other way when she heard a threatening voice and another soft cry.

She narrowed her eyes and advanced forward, cautiously scanning the area. Then she spotted a narrow alleyway that was infested with filth and decay. A fuming sigh pierced from her lips as a whacking sound confirmed that the sounds were indeed coming from the alleyway. She knew that the easiest and logical thing to do was to leave it for some other sucker to handle...but the pulsing of adrenaline in her veins pushed her to the curb of the crosswalk.

Her instincts were kicking. Silently, her heels clicked on the road and she confidently jaywalked towards the alley, ignoring the blaring horns and muddling of curses from angry drivers. She stopped and reached the alleyway entrance, placing her bag on a dumpster and kept to the wall, observing the scene.

Her eyes beheld a familiar sight; a little girl, who looked to be around ten with grime plastered on her fair skin, was cowering and sobbing while a punchy skin-head bullied and pinned her against the wall. He unzipped his pant's fly as his large hands gripped her tiny shoulders. This wasn't an uncommon thing to happen in a city. Young girls were raped daily in the shadows and the funny thing about this situation was that she seemed to be immune to the abuse. Peering at the scratch marks on her ashen cheeks and the scars on the girl's neck was Selina's ignition to the fueling anger coursing through her body. She stared at the man's stained teeth, sneering as he preformed jerking thrusts against the child's thighs.

Well aware of the detail of the situation and the delicate victim, Selina waited until the man's back was turned to her and wasted no time as she prowled closer and prepared to strike.

Silently, she stepped over shards of broken glass and slipped up behind the man. With a quick tap to his broad shoulder, she made her presence known and quickly scanned over the weak spots of his body. He turned around, grunting like a filthy pig and his eyes widened as she raised a fist and delivered a deadly uppercut to his chin, then bended her waist - firing a speed jab into his stomach. Once she saw signs of the attacker becoming disoriented, she punched his bald-headed skull again and knocked him out unconscious.

With a prideful smirk, she watched his body crumple to the ground, then she stepped over him and found herself staring face-to-face with the child, who was quaking in shock as blood dripped from her bottom lip.

Selina cracked her knuckles and smiled with amusement. "That's how you take care of business, kid."

The girl coughed and shivered. Selina quickly knelt down and placed her hand gently on the child's frozen cheek. "You okay, sweetheart?" She asked in a tender voice, her dark brown eyes surveyed over the girl's frail body and inwardly studying the revealing symptoms of infection. She raised her hand to the child's forehead and felt the warm temperature. "You're burning up."

"I...don't feel good." the girl replied in a shaky voice, her eyes were glazed and her whole body was quivering from feverish chills. She looked like she was starving to death, and her skin tone wasn't healthy. Her rib bones were poking out of her ragged shirt and her curly blonde hair was dirty and matted.

Selina took out a piece of tissue from her pocket, and wiped the lines of blood off the girl's chin. "I hope this idiot was a stranger?" she remarked, shifting her eyes to the motionless body.

The girl looked up at her sadly. "No. He's work."

Selina raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips with a sour expression written on her face. She knew that the average age of prostitution was decreasing below the teen years; more and more children were subjecting themselves to the filth of mortal greed and lust. She refused to believe that ten was the age limit. Her doubts heightened, convincing her that eight and seven year old girls were becoming sex slaves in the black markets. She knew the life of being a "street girl" all too well. At one time it was the only way she survived and supported herself – the shelters were she parked herself at during the cold nights became a refuge from the brutality of the drunkards she danced and feed their lust for, behind closed doors. She watched many girls her age fall to being victims of sexual transmitted diseases for unlawful incest and placed a rose on each of their graves. She never shed a tear for them once in all those years of witnessing the horrors of being a servant to human pleasure.

Instead, she learned from their failures and mistakes. She never allowed her body to be thrown around like a worthless doll wearing black panties. She stood up against the bastards that mistreated her friends by clawing them in the face, kicking and using her bare hands to bring her own form of justice to the slummy rat invested apartments and brothels. She even allowed her vengeance to take over her heart and set those buildings of torture ablaze. When it was all set and done, she became immune to the mistakes of the past…and breathed in the stench of malice as she watched each of her demons burn in the flames.

Selina looked into the girl's eyes and curiously asked, "What's your name?"

"Why should I tell you," the girl replied in a defensive tone as her body started to sway.

"I'm friend." Selina answered, keeping her identity quiet.

"Olivia," the girl said in an unsettled voice.

"Come on, Olivia. Let's get you out of here and find someplace warm." She peered at the child's sunken green eyes and quickly wrapped her arms around her; allowing her own body heat to warm Olivia's icy flesh.

Olivia pressed herself close to Selina's chest. "I'm cold...he said if I didn't follow his orders...he would kill my sister..." her voice trailed off as tears streamed down her cheeks."I need to find her..." She slipped out of Selina's embrace and moved towards the street.

"Well I think it's safe to say...that baldy will be suffering memory loss. I'd be surprised if he remembers his own name." Selina said, guiding Olivia down the street.

Olivia glanced back nervously. "What about him?"

"We'll let the police deal with him sweetie." Selina replied. "I'm sure they have a nice bed all made up for him in Stonegate." She paused, looking across the street. "Where do you live? Do you have a mother?"

Olivia shook her head somberly. "No. I live where ever I want." She paused and looked up at Selina. "Thanks for saving me, friend. But I can handle these streets on my own." She started walking away. Selina pulled out some cash and called out her name.

"Olivia," her voice blared against the traffic. Olivia turned around with a puzzled look as Selina walked closer and stuffed the wrinkled bills into the collar of her shirt. "Something to get you back on your feet," she said, placing her hand on the child's shoulder. "Listen, I want you to go to a homeless shelter and buy some food...you're not well. Rest is your only option. Got it sweetie"

Olivia nodded and smiled before saying, "Thank you."

Selina returned the nod, then turned and walked away.

* * *

Bruce grimaced as he shifted with displeasure written across his face and winced, feeling the pressure of the knee brace digging into his leg muscle. Taking a deep breath, he stared directly at Commissioner James Gordon sitting next to Mayor Anthony Garcia. Three officers were positioned behind him: Detective Gerald Stevens, and two unknown and fresh faces to the police force. He felt the collar of his Armani suit constricting against his throat as he silently observed the capacity of the coward: annoying reporters shouting out questions, a GNN journalist and public service officials.

He noticed a beautiful woman with her strawberry blonde-red hair done up into French Twist, and dressed in a pressed white blouse and black skirt. He kept his soft hazel eyes locked on her stunning face and dazzling blue eyes. He watched her jot down a few notes on a clipboard, until his attention was jarred by the Mayor taking the stand behind the podium and addressing the crowd with a genuine smile. His dark eyes looked forward at the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. Commissioner Gordon has called this press conference today for two reasons; firstly to inform you that the public funeral for Harvey Dent will be held on Friday morning."

Bruce clenched his jaw, folded his arms over his chest, and shaped his eyes with an unnerving gaze. His lips curved into a scowl and his blood was starting to boil. He felt that it was unfair for Rachel to have a private funeral with family and friends. She worked hard through sweat, tears and blood to ensure the safety of the people of Gotham. She deserved to have her heroics recognized and not become just another engraving of a name on stone.

* * *

Alfred sat at the kitchen counter, sipping a coffee and watching the press conference on the flat screen television. The camera zoomed in to Commissioner James Gordon, standing behind the podium of superior courthouse with the Mayor sitting closely behind, along with a fresh new faces in the police force.

A beautiful uniformed detective and a large sloppy burly featured man dressed in a trench-coat that Alfred mused of looking like an unmade bed. His eyes focused on the bombardment of reporters thrusting their microphones in the direction of Gordon. He turned his focus to Bruce, standing against the wall with a neutral expression on his handsome face as cops shouted and cameras flashed.

* * *

Commissioner Gordon straightened and addressed the crowd. "Ladies and the gentlemen, the reason why I called this press conference today is to assure every citizen that the officers of Gotham Police are doing everything they possibly can to restate the safety of the city for the Batman killings." He paused, looking out at the citizens and as the heaviness of the lie buried itself deep into his chest. He turned around and stared at the portrait of the handsome blonde haired man with a strong jaw and genuine smile.

Harvey Dent looked every bit like a crusading knight of justice, but Gordon had seen his face of horror. He released a somber sigh before continuing. "Secondly, to introduce the newest members of the Gotham City Police Department; Detective Renee Montoya," he gestured a hand to the dark haired female officer who gave a short wave to the crowd. "Detective Harvey Bullock."

He released shaky exhale and stared at the faces of those who put their faith in their "White Knight". He swallowed a lump building in his throat and his hands were shaking as he listened to the demands of the weary citizens.

A uniformed police officer blared out. "No more dead cops, Commissioner!" Several of his fellow officers echoed him. "The vigilante should be sent to Arkham and rot with all those freaks."

"Lock the murderer into a padded cell!" A cluster of citizens yelled out. "He deserves to be caged!"

Bruce lowered his eyes, a shroud of failure hung over his body.

Gordon felt a shudder in his heart as he stood, motionless and allowed the rants and chants rattle into his ears. He brought his eyes to the familiar face of the billionaire that risked his own life to save Coleman Reese from getting rammed by a Ram 1500 truck that was waiting off to the side... There was something unsettling about Bruce Wayne to his mind, almost like he knew him from previous encounters. He shrugged off those thoughts and swallowed harshly before speaking into the microphone once more. "Rest assured, my officers are doing everything in their power to hunt down the Batman. Thank you." He was ready to step back, when a female voice yelled out a question.

Bruce jerked his head up and searched for the direction of the voice. That led his gaze back onto the red haired reporter holding up a pen as she asked the commissioner her question.

"Commissioner," she said with a gentle and yet strong voice. "Lois Lane from the Daily Planet...I have a question about the statement that you gave to the press on the night Harvey Dent was murdered by the Batman." All eyes were focused on her as she boldly stepped forward through the crowd. "You stated that the Batman broke Harvey Dent's neck and then just ran off?"

Gordon's face cringed with discomfort. "Believe what you want to, Miss Lane...but I stated the truth at the scene of the crime. Batman killed Harvey Dent. Thank you. No more questions." He finished brusquely.

Lois gave him a nod of respect and wrote down his answer in her notes.

He stepped down and turned to the knot of officers positioned at his side. The chanting stopped. Bruce started to inch his way towards the exit doors...He was lost in thought but determined to get his heated body out into the breezy air. He did not realize that the famous reporter from the city of Metropolis was trailing behind him.

He opened the doors and slowly walked down the steps. A sharp pain ignited in his knee as he breathed in the fresh air and felt a sickening sweat roll down his back. He placed his sunglasses over his stinging hazel eyes, scuffled in his pants pocket and pulled out the key fob of his silver Lamborghini. He cursed his own stubborn composure in refusing Alfred to drive him in the Rolls Royce. Releasing a grunt of frustration, he descended further down the steps.

Not paying attention, and clouded by his own mortal judgment of trusting Harvey Dent, Bruce lost his footing on the last step and almost crashed to the cement when a warm arm tucked itself around his body and supported him back up to his feet. He turned his head and looked into the face of Lois Lane, her blue eyes alight and a bright smile stretched across her face. He curved his lips into an appreciative smile.

She blushed lightly, staring into his deep-set hazel eyes. "I heard this city is a dangerous place. I guess it's even dangerous to walk down steps."

" You're right about that Miss-"

"Lane," she answered. "Lois Lane. I worked at the Daily Planet in Metropolis."

He nodded. "I've read an article of yours about LexCorp Industries...Very insightful."

"Thank you," she replied. "This manhunt for Batman has me intrigued. I read articles from the Gotham Times and the Gotham Star about the heroics acts he served when your city was under attack by a group of terrorists called-"

"The League of Shadows," Bruce hashed out. "The monorail train that my father designed was destroyed...along with a few important landmarks."

She looked at him with puzzlement imbedded in her eyes. "Father...wait?" Her eyes widened. "You're Bruce Wayne; the billionaire prince of Gotham? I've heard a lot about Mr. Wayne."

"Oh?" He looked around with disdain. "I hope good things."

"Actually, most of the articles and columns concern your devious actions at social gatherings and golf courses with world famous models and ballerinas."

"Well I have a reputation to keep," he said dryly. "I'm not unlike your city's own bald billionaire that spends most of his free time rebuilding Metropolis in his own image, and getting famous by all the charitable spreads that feed his big fat ego."

"This is coming from a man that buys hotels just so he can go swimming in their fountains," she pointed out. "I don't know who has the biggest ego, Mr. Wayne...but all the work Lex Luthor does is to benefit and better the lives of the people in my city, instead of filling out check books for fancy sports cars." She pointed at the Lamborghini parked at the curb. Before Bruce could say another word, her mobile chimed. She shuffled in her purse and pulled out her phone, looking at the text message on the screen. She rolled her eyes. "It was a pleasure to finally meet the international playboy in person. I look forward to having an interview with you in the near future."

He nodded and watched her walk towards a parked yellow taxi.

* * *

Hours afterwards, Bruce shifted uncomfortably in bed. His eye flew open as he slammed his fist against the mattress. His frustration echoed through the walls of the penthouse. He felt the sting behind his eyes as he closed them, trying to fight against the disturbance of intense waves filtering in his mind. His pulse was elevating as he drifted into the unknown territory of the war ravaging through a clot of weary thoughts.

Blurry images lodged somewhere deep in his subconsciousness - submerged. He was walking without the limp and the cane in the gardens of Wayne Manor - without the aches and throbbing in his bones - free from pain. He moved to the greenhouse that was covered with lush green vines with blooming flowers.

It was spring time. The morning doves cooed and the azure blue sky was breathtaking, cloudless, and the bright streams of the sunlight reflected off the crisp green grass as he strode to the greenhouse. He glanced down and realized that he was suddenly an eight-year old boy again, wearing the same shirt and cargo pants. He kept walking until he entered the doorway, and he saw a girl hiding underneath the wooden table. She was holding an arrowhead shaped stone in her hands.

Her dark hair was braided into pink-tails and she wore a light-grey hooded sweater; smiling brightly. Bruce's eyes became fixed on the young girl whose face was turned. He was a little timid of crawling under the table himself. He was unsure in speaking to her, but the girl lifted her head and stared up him with her dazzling blue eyes.

She smiled sweetly. "Bruce, why did it take you so long to find me?"

Bruce blinked and crashed onto his knees "Rachel?"

She was exactly how he remembered her in his childhood youth; full of life and innocence, looking into his hazel eyes."I've been waiting here for hours..." she teased. "Did you forget about me, silly?"

"Well-I-" he looked into her eyes with confusion. "I sort of lost my way."

Rachel tapped him on the shoulder. "Tag - you're it." She crawled out from the table and raced out of the greenhouse with the arrowhead secured in the palm of her hands. She raced out into the sunlight with Bruce chasing out after her. "You can't catch me." She laughed. "You're not getting this treasure I found. Finders keepers, Bruce Wayne."

Bruce felt his lips curve into a smile. "In my garden..." he raced up to her and pinned her to the ground. Taking the stone out of her hand. "Finders keepers," he raced to down the garden and headed into the direction of the well. His legs carried him up the bent boards as he waited for her...suddenly he was falling into the darkness...into the void of his nightmares and fears. He crashed to the ground and looked up at the shafts of light coming from the top. Heart was racing as the screeching sounds of the bats echoed in between the rocks. He swallowed the knot of dread battling in his throat and slammed his eyes shut as bats emerged, scratching and biting his flesh.

He opened his eyes and saw a dark nightmare slowly moving closer to him. He gripped his courage and stared at the figure...rising from the ground. He was older and dressed in a black t-shirt. His eyes burned with anger as he snarled at the shadow. "What do you want with me," he pronounced. The figure held out its gloved hand, revealing a string of pearls as its dark eyes glared at him.

"You had the power..." the shadowy creature growled."You had control over Gotham...You were the hero that this city deserved. Now you are a monster in the eyes of the people you fought to protect. You're nothing but a man lost in his own weakness…and a failure that will die alone in this life."

Bruce shook his head. "I did what I had to do to save the hope of this city."

"And look at you...Rachel is dead because of your poor judgment ...because you lacked the will to act."

"I was tricked!" Bruce seethed. "Given the wrong address."

"You let your anger control you...now it is destroying you. The Joker won and everything you fought for...all the nights of taking and enduring the pain is all undone. You made the wrong choice in taking the fall for Dent. You're no longer a hero, but the very thing that you fought against...a villain."

Bruce lowered his head and muttered. "I was never a hero...I could never do those things like Dent did for Gotham."

The figure drew closer, revealing the dark face of Batman who spoke in a gruff tone. "Then what are you?" the voice pressed on. "Are you the man without fear, or the coward without hope?"

His throbbing eyes popped open to the distant murmur of traffic below. Slight discomfort etched across his brow while lines of sweat were imbedded in the groves of his chest. His hand reached out and gripped the corner nightstand. He put all of his strength to one side and lifted his battered form cautiously up. His teeth clenched together and a faint hiss escaped from his lips. "Come on," he forced out, feeling his leg shake from the pressure of tightening muscle spasms.

He limped to the window and his piercing hazel eyes stared out at Gotham. His city.

* * *

The soft glows illuminated from the street lights reflecting off the parked hoods of the cars as smoky haze from tobacco blanketed the air. The doors of a bar, that was a real dive, opened - releasing toxic fumes of ash. A few slutty waitresses, that smelt like they bathed in mixed vodka, mounted their bodies next to line of motorcycles as they glared at a curvy young woman, dressed in a tight dress, clicking her heels to the entrance.

Selina inwardly cringe as she handed the bouncer a wad of cash and strolled boldly through the doors, hearing her heels crackle the peanut shells on the floor. She usually never stepped foot in a sleazy "not worth my time" place like this, but tonight she had business to conduct.

Holding her breath, she moved to the bar and pulled out a stool with a heel then sat down, crossing her legs in a seductive manner. She rubbed her plump lips together. Her hip hugging black dress and lithe shape drew appreciative leers and catcalls from the drunks hidden in the corners. She instantly rolled her eyes and lured the bar tender into her temptress allure. "How about a drink, handsome," she spoke in a low tone.

She deposited cash inside and emptied the grimy beer glass. "Keep the change," she said and took her drink, sauntering over to a nearby table to keep her appointment. She anticipated that things were about to liven up once the claws came out if the negotiation didn't satisfy to her standards.

"You always drink on the job?" Carlo Fandez asked incredulously. He was a polished creep in two piece leather with slick raven hair. His unsavory reputation of working in the East End for the big names of international shipping firms, including two overseas corporations that were owned by the late Salvatore Maroni that were stationed in Hong Kong and Monaco. Even to the cutthroat thieves and drunks, he reeked of bad blood.

"It helps calm the nerves," Selina smirked, pulling out the chair and offering a coy explanation. Her sly brown eyes shifted as she scoped out the scene. Hired muscle scattered around the surrounding tables with their weapons strapped to their thighs. She noted the type of arsenal, and then opened up her purse, and extracted a sealed envelope. She handed it over to Fandez. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we handsome."

Fandez opened the envelope and pulled out the document. He gazed at the printed decoded numbers as he held the paper up to the light, scanning through the list of Swiss bank account passwords. "Very nice," he pronounced, before pocketing the envelope in his jacket. "My employer will be well pleased."

"Not so fast, handsome," she said with a slightly fierce tone. "You owe me something."

A smirked lightened over his lips. "You'll get paid in full when the job is done."

"Then I guess my price has doubled considering the fact that I was lied too." she played out, watching Fandez snap his fingers, and a burly thug walked over lifting up is shirt to give her a clear view of the handgun. "You boys are just full of surprises." She wasn't impressed or surprised. She took a few sips of her drink and rubbed her heel against his calf, making him become aroused by her seductive methods; dulling all his senses and making him produce a feverish sweat. She spoke in a biting tone. "So what's next on the job list?"

Fandez pulled out his mobile and flashed the address on the screen. The thug, breathing down her neck, cocked his gun. Nobody showed a hint of coming to her rescue._ 'I never could play the damsel in distress.'_ She thought._ 'None of these idiots would show acts of chivalry. Guess I'm on my own.'_

"Okay."

She reached inside her purse and pulled out the mobile phone and quickly texted the address on the screen. "First let's cut that crap and talk business okay, handsome." She boldly addressed. "I need the details of the entry points and the importance of the files that I am acquired to filch for that big boss of yours."

"You do this job right kitten, and you're looking at an early retirement from Gotham."

"Interesting" she agreed. "But this city has so much to offer, and it would be a waste to give it all up handsome." She tucked her cellphone back into her purse. "Tell your boss that I have everything under control with this situation." She pulled out her chair and drained the glass then slammed it onto the table. She took a moment to adjust her dress. "See you around." She purred, then rushed out of the bar.

Within moments, she was pacing down the alley, stripping her dress off. A zipper to a skin-tight leather suit became visible. Selina rolled the folded dress into a backpack that was hidden behind a trash can, took out a stick of lipstick and dabbed it over her lips then pulled on her domino mask over her face. After fully dressing into her cat-burglar suit, she stashed her bag back into its hiding place, stretched her slender body then vanished into the shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4  
**

* * *

With one deep inhale of muggy, humid air, Selina used her skills of precision and stealth as she flitted across the shadowy rooftop of the warehouse. She pulled down her goggles and scanned the area for heat signatures at the entry points of the complex. Three guards, armed with automatics, were positioned on the lower level of the docking area. Two security cameras were mounted on the wall near the enclosed office. With clinical movement, she sauntered closer to her destination point, removing a skeleton key from her compartment belt, and unlocking the door.

She lifted up her goggles and gingerly entered the lightly dimmed office, perfectly aware of her strange surroundings, and armed with a handgun strapped to her left thigh. A sense of being watched danced along her spine. Tonight she was going to rattle their cages.

Selina walked to the furnished desk, and sat down in the chair for the moment. She flipped through the signed paperwork that had the signature of a man who had the best political and underworld connections in Gotham. Sal Maroni. He was in charge of the international smuggling operations at the Gotham Docks. Her sharp dark eyes read over the schedule of incoming shipments from Hong Kong that were labeled under the symbol of Wayne Enterprises.

"Why is this not surprising?" she murmured silently, reading the number codes of the products. Most of the codes were for prototype defense weaponry and navigational satellite systems. She pondered momentarily before taking a closer look at the enclosed documentation that had a certain name she recalled hearing the Joker mark as a dead man. A Wayne Enterprises' fiduciary named Coleman Reese. "Hmm...I think you're going to have visitor tonight, Mr. Reese," she purred, placing the folder down and moving to the filing cabinet.

Quickly she unlocked the top drawer and acquired the information that Carlo Fandez paid her to swipe. It contained records of business mergers and labeled DVD's marked as illegal porn of overseas human trafficking. Clenching her jaw, she opened one of the cases to see if the disk was clean. On the center was a date and cross bone overlapping a woman's name written in red marker. She paused for a moment and closed the DVD case. Taking a few steps back, she opened the folder. Her eyes scanned through the photocopies of driver licenses and gun serial numbers of registered weapons belonging to Officer Anna Ramirez, who was fired from the force after her acts of "corruption" that police Commissioner Jim Gordon revealed in a press statement.

A harsh sounding voice wafted from behind, spiking her adrenaline levels. "Who the hell are you? What's in your hands?" She felt a gun pressed against her skull. "I asked you a question."

"Sorry handsome...I'm just not a good listener." Selina curled her lips into a smirk. "I only listen to what I want to hear." She kept her poise calm, lowering the folder onto the desk. Slowly she reached for her handgun. When she felt the pressure of the gun lift off her head, she seized the moment as he grabbed her wrist. Moving quickly, she raised her captured arm as high as she could and kneed his groin hard. She watched as he winced, and then flipped his wrist backwards. She then grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the desk.

Selina released her grip as his body crash to the floor and quickly grabbed the folder. She slipped out of the office; pistol whipped another guard in the face as he tried to lunge at her. She kicked him in-between in his legs before giving him two quick jabs in the calves. He tumbled to the ground, smacking his forehead against the cement flooring. He was instantly knocked out.

She maneuvered to the isle of crates, only to find another one of Maroni's men blocking her path. He was burly sized and his was face concealed with a ski-mask. She took one step forward.

"I think you had enough fun, bitch," he snarled, pointing his gun at her. Selina bit her bottom lip slightly then, without any hesitation, pounced on him, grabbing his wrist and twisted his elbow until it touched the tip of his nose.

"Oh I'm just getting started, big boy." She bent over slightly and yanked his arm, listening to the bones crack from the force of her hand, and then threw him to the ground as if he was unwanted trash. The man's head smacked on the pavement and released a loud painful yelp. "What's wrong, tough guy...can't handle a woman." she teased, pressing her knee onto his groin.

"Get the hell off of me, bitch!" He seethed, trying to push her off his body, but she locked her legs around his waist and lowered her head down. Her hand wrapped itself around his throat, and she squeezed her fingers tightly, watching him lose air.

"Now you're going to tell me what your boss is planning to do with those shipments from Wayne Enterprises? You know it doesn't take long until the air flow ceases in your lungs, honey. So you better make it quick." The man released a loud groan as he tried prying himself out of her clutches. She noticed his hint of struggle, and constricted his throat even more as she taunted. "I'll give you a minute and a half before you start to turn blue, handsome."

"Reese." He managed to produce out. "Maroni…is using Reese as leverage to obtain-"

"To get what?" Selina growled. "Prototype weapons for his own operations?" She stared down watching his lips change into a blue tinge. Reluctantly, she disregards her hand and punched him in the jaw knowing that when he awakes he'll feel a migraine of a headache. She straightened off his body and took a few inhales of breath before disappearing in the umbra of the crates.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the crumbling yellow brick walls covered with smeared bloodstains in between the cracks, Doctor Harleen Quinzel gingerly clicked her three-inch heels across dense puddles of murky water from the leaking pipes hanging above, splashing on the ends of her pants. Her brown eyes scanned every occupied cell door, and a shiver danced along her spine as a maleficent crackle grasped her attention. She became entranced to the sound as if it was a sweet melody to her ears. She inched closer to the high security cell door that was marked "forbidden" in her naïve and curious mind. She peered at the marred smile growing wider as her feet carried her to the locked door.

A pair of dark eyes looked directly at her. "Hello, beautiful. You must be new around here, no?" He glazed his Glasgow scars with his tongue as his eyes ran over her body from head to toe. She stood rigid, looking straight ahead at the barred window while trying to ignore him. He smacked his lips together. "And you are a beautiful, doctor. But you look nervous. It's the mad house isn't? Staring at these walls can make you crazy in a second if you don't blink." He laughed. "Wanna know how I got here? Wanna hear my side of the story, doctor?"

Harley crossed her arms over her breasts. Her heart was pounding rapidly and icy chills struck her petite body. "I'm not supposed to talk to you. Dr. Leland instructed me to keep my distance from you." She said. "You're an unpredictable and dangerous mind that I can't subject myself to."

"So you do like me, doctor... I know that I'm easy on the eyes," he replied. "Just like a certain Bat that I love."

"I know you know all about the Batman," Harley exclaimed. "If the people of Gotham had their way, he would be locked up in that padded cell next to yours."

"Especially when everyone in this city has lost their minds about the murder of Harvey Dent. My little ace in the hole." His yellow and grimy teeth sneered as his debased mind thought of the Batman and the weird and irresistible connection that they had of being two sides - comedy and tragedy - but on the same coin. Chaos and order. Compromise and uncompromising. They were considered to be each other's antithesis and matches in the world of black and white with mixtures of crimson thrown on the canvas as well.

It was fun to pull Batman's strings, to take control of his moral codes and make him become a rabid dog for the police to hunt down. He knew that they would destined to have more confrontations in police observation rooms, prison cells and party favor stores. Right now the Joker was conjuring up more gleeful ways to twist his dark obsession and turn him loose.

The Joker turned his cold eyes to the young doctor, studying each of the expressions detailed on her pretty face. He knew she was weak to temptation and fascinated with his sordid character. She was going to be easy prey to manipulate, and the perfect girl for a psychopathic mass murdering terrorist. "You know, you're not like the other doctors that try to get me to reveal secrets that I have never confessed to anyone. Somehow I feel that I can with you beautiful."

Harley felt her cheeks become flushed. She moved closer until her lips were a breath away from the wired window of the cell.

The Joker looked directly into her eyes and smiled. "You know what would make me happy?" He pondered devilishly as a cold-blood snake would as its trances its prey trapped with its coils. "To see you smile...It's been so long since I saw a smile on a face."

She instantly looked over her shoulder, and surveyed the area for any guards, and then bore her brown eyes into his black chasms. Her redden lips stretched revealing her pearly white teeth.

"Look at you," he cackled. "Such a lovely flawless smile that warms a sad clown's broken heart. You know what would make you perfect than the rest of the women in this senseless world?"

Harley's eyes widened. "What?" she asked in an eager voice.

"A permanent smile...Like mine." He placed his hand over the gashes on his cheeks. And slipped out a playing card from his uniform before saying in a seductive whisper, "Of course you might feel a bit of pain...But doesn't smile hurt, doctor?" He started giggling uncontrollably.

"Harley," she said. "Call me Harley Quinzel."

The Joker licked his lips. "Hmm...Harley. I like it." He snarled, "Except the last name. Somehow it doesn't suit you..." He paused as a sudden idea zapped into his mind. "I'm going to call you Harley Quinn."

"Harley Quinn," she repeated. "Like the Harlequin doll?"

He nodded. "That's what you remind me of...A sweet and breakable Harlequin."

"Whatever you say, Mr. J,"

"Mr. J," his eyes glared into hers. "I like that name."

Suddenly the sound of footfalls from security jarred her attention. Harley quickly stepped back from the door and sauntered down the hall before she heard his voice waft into her ears.

"Don't forget to smile, Harley Quinn."

* * *

Inside his penthouse, in the business district, a timid Coleman Reese sat at his desk reviewing numbers from the previous stocks of Wayne Enterprises international mergers from the first quarter of 2007. They included books from L.S.I. Holdings in Hong Kong that the recently deceased Mr. Lau wanted to create a joint venture with Wayne Enterprises creating a powerhouse for both American and Chinese economies.

Suddenly his brow became drenched with a cold sweat, the sound of glass shattering engulfed in his ears. Quickly he pulled out the desk drawer and grabbed a gun with a shaky hand. His brown eyes stared at the shadows as he swallowed and stepped closer into the living room. His anxious mind replayed the warning that Lucius Fox gave to him "You think that your client, one of the wealthiest most powerful men in the world, is secretly a vigilante who spends his nights beating criminals to a pulp with his bare hands. And now your plan is to blackmail this person?"

He moved to the balcony door, shards of glass crunched underneath his shoes. His heart started running laps in his chest as a crystal vase on the table smashed to the floor.

"Oops," a sultry female voice said in the shadows. Reese panted heavy breaths as he felt a stream of sweat cascade down his back. He took a few gulps down and gingerly shifted his body a few inches away from the window. He moved to his office to call the police. Instead, a pair of black gloves grabbed him by the collar. He screamed a lungful as his eyes bore into the dark alluring eyes behind a domino mask.

"Want to do dance, handsome." The woman in black leather purred as she threw him against the living room, slamming his back into a picture frame. He reached for his weapon that was inches from his foot but she moved rapidly and shot her leg up, impossibly high, and used her sharp heel to trap his wrist to the wall at shoulder height. He whimpered in pain as the jagged edges starting piercing through his flesh. She leaned towards him with a deadly glare.

"I knew I would find a mouse to play with," she purred, looking at the sweat rolling off the bridge of his nose. "But I never intended on finding a rat." Her taut leg kept his wrist pinned into an uncomfortable angle. She kicked the gun and watched it glide across the floor.

"What do you want, freak?" Reese muttered as he winced.

"I don't like being called names," she replied.

"What do you want?"

She dug her heel in, grinding his wrist against the wall.

"I want information on your employer, Bruce Wayne." She brushed a finger over his trembling lips."You see - he owes me something that I want."

"I'll tell you what you need to know...if you release me." Reese said in a calm tone. She squinted her eyes and lowered her leg down slowly. He rubbed his wrist and looked at her jaw clenching. He gave a short nod.

"Well don't keep me waiting, handsome." She spoke with a hint of irritation. "I don't have all night."

"Bruce Wayne has been playing dress up." He replied with a shaky voice. "Spending most of the stock funding on his R and D Department with his prototype weaponry under the noses of the board members."

"So let me get this straight," she hissed. "You're saying that your employer - the billionaire moron - has been splurging weapons for his own fun? And that he doesn't have anything to do with the other shipments from Hong Kong that is being overseen by Maroni?"

"How do you know all of this?" Reese questioned.

"What can I say, I'm a curious cat." She pressed her body against him, and became a breath away from his lips. "That loves satisfaction."

"Maroni hired me, after the Joker put a threat on my life, to extort Bruce Wayne. I give him the codes to the incoming shipments and the documentation that Lucius Fox signed.

Selina pulled back, drew a gun from her belt and pressed it against his forehead. "That's not the information I want." She demanded. "Now you're going to tell me the account numbers for Bruce Wayne's share holdings...or I'll start counting to three." Her finger curled on the trigger.

"Alright," Reese agreed in a frigid voice. "All the information on Wayne is in the top drawer of my desk." She gritted her teeth and spun him around, twisting his arm before whispering.

"You better not be playing coy with me, Mr. Reese. I'm a dangerous woman to cross." She threw him to the ground. "Now be a good dear and go fetch for me." Reese straightened from the floor and raced into the office. He moved quickly to the desk and pulled out the drawer as he watched her dismantle his gun and throw the pieces against the wall. He gathered the folder that contained all the account numbers of his client Bruce Wayne.

He looked at the phone on the desk and picked up the receiver. Before he could dial 911, she fired her gun and the bullet ripped through the cord. He dropped the receiver while his jaw fell with amazement as she entered the office.

Selina placed her gun back in the hostler of her belt. Reese stared at her other gun strapped to her thigh and handed her the folder.

"Everything you requested," he said, watching her flip through the pages with a devilish smirk. "Now get out and leave me alone."

"Oh I'll back if this doesn't satisfy me. For your gutless life, you better hope it does." She moved to the balcony and before she leaped out, she turned her head and flashed him a big red smile. "See you around."

Reese watched her back-flip out the window. He peered down and saw nothing but headlights from traffic below.

* * *

Inside the underground bunker, Bruce sat in front of the collection on screens looking at old footage of Rachel at Harvey Dent's campaigns; his eyes brimmed with heated tears as he focused on all the security files from the bank robbery. The Joker's first appearance caught on camera. Anger bubbled inside his veins as he stared at the marred scars of the uncompromising clown that wanted Gotham to burn with flames of chaos. He had a gut feeling that the Joker was devising a plan in his padded cell at Arkham. He scowled and instantly switched off the screens, lowering his head as his face dug into his hands.

He straightened from the chair and winced as he limped to the clutter desk that had a steel case lying on top. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the clips and looked down at the matte black ninja armor that he wore in Kathmandu. Quickly he dressed and pulled on the black-mask over his face, only revealing his intense hazel eyes as he gazed at the uniform. It felt good to put on the armor that he wore during his last test with the League of Shadows. He faced death and chaos with it just like the times he endured in the bat suit. But he was a trained and skilled warrior of the shadows, and it wasn't the Kevlar reinforced suit that made him the deadliest ninjitsu brawler. It was his intelligence, determination and discipline.

The sound of the lift descending from behind alerted Bruce to Alfred's presence. With the gauntlets in his hands, he turned around and met the old man with a severe gaze as he placed the gauntlets over his wrists.

Alfred looked at his master clad in a ninja uniform, with a spray painted bat insignia at the center of his chest. "So you swapping costumes I see," the butler affirmed. "Stubborn boy. You're going to get yourself thrown into Arkham."

"I have to do what is necessary to protect Gotham." Bruce answered, putting the finishing touches of his uniform on. "Gordon's officers can't be trusted. I need to watch from the shadows."

In truth Alfred knew that his young master was right. He'd been by his side from the beginning of the creation of the monster Bruce transformed himself into every night he wore the cowl. Releasing a distraught sigh, he walked over and placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and nodded.

Bruce returned the gesture. He went into the shadows and returned wheeling out his Augusta Brutale, which he pushed towards the lift.

"Safe ride, Master Wayne," Alfred said. "I'll keep you informed of any patrol cars near your position."

Bruce pulled on the helmet, climbed onto the motorcycle and fired up the engine.

* * *

The sound of sirens echoed in the distance. Already Bruce eluded three patrol cars on Lower 5th and Crescent street. The search helicopters were flying over the entire city. A wispy mist blurred the streetlamps and softened the edges of the dented cargo containers. He was motionless, his body tense and his eyes focused on the targets unloading boxes as they arrived at pier fourteen; an area that Carmine Falcone deemed for his shipments of drugs. Salvatore Maroni was in charge of managing the shipments while the ex-crime lord - the Roman - was strapped to a bed in Arkham.

Carman, Mattson and Stabbs were finally moving the boxes out of the containers and piling them up in the back of a tracker trailer. The night air was growing cold as they shivered in their coats and pulled up the zippers, unaware that a pair of eyes were watching their every step. Suddenly a pair of headlights, from an approaching Honda, lit the scene and the three men stopped for several seconds as their bodies froze.

Wilmer Rossi got out of the car and strode briskly to one of the unloaded boxes with displeasure on his scruffy face. He parted its flaps, reached inside and brought out a plastic bag of pure cocaine. He stuffed the bag and breathed in the fumes of the powder before throwing it into another pile of bags. "Easy with the merchandise, boys. Maroni doesn't want a single drop leaked out." He warned grimly, and went back to his car, feeling a ghostly presence in the air. "I want this stuff cleared out in one hour. Or Maroni will be paying for your funeral expenses."

Carman nodded and walked down the aisle where a single overhead lamp lit the narrow dark crevice of crates. Mattson handed a box to Carman who took it away down the passageway between stacked containers. Carman turned back to the darkness in the opened container and was yanked forcefully inside.

A moment later, Mattson heard a muffled groan. He set the box down and called, "Carman?"

There was no reply. Mattson pulled a gun from his under jacket and nodded to Stabbs who was coming from the docks.

"Come on, we gotta get these-" Before Mattson could finish his sentence, Carman's unconscious body was thrown out of the container. Both men watched their partner's face smack onto the pavement. Stabbs drew his own gun and they moved to the open container.

Behind them, something whistled from the shadows and the overhead lamp shattered. The two men jerked around, raising their weapons. The thing that hit the lamp fell to the ground and Stabbs lifted it, trying to see exactly what the object was in the darkness. His gaze shifted to a loud bang on a roof of a container. He fired at the moving dark shadow, feeling beads of sweat drench his brow. His heart was racing as he backed into a steel wall and looked up at a loomed cable from the crane, and a masked figure that hung from it.

Stabbs blinked and whispered, "What the hell..."

The figure dropped and it's arms whipped out and grabbed him by the collar, grappling him into the container. The shape - was it a man? - somersaulted and performed a quick takedown. Pressing onto the back of his neck; within seconds he was unconscious.

Mattson ran, his arms pumping, the breath exploding from his lungs. He charged down the narrow passageway between the stacks of containers, and came to the corner street shouting words out at the other men unloading the boxes. "We got a problem!" A black gauntlet arm hoisted him up as he screamed. "Ahhh!"

Inside his Honda, Hossi was talking on his cellphone when he heard the high-pitch scream. He got out of the car and pulled an automatic from his coat. His dark brown eyes scanned the area as he moved towards the docks.

"Where the hell are the lights, you bastards?" He yelled out at the workers. "I'm not paying you bitches just to sit around and play hide-and-seek."

"Mattson was attacked by something," one of the men said with a shaky voice, pointing to the passageway. He rolled his eyes and huffed out a few curses before slipping into the passage between the containers. His foot hit something hard as it released a soft moan. He narrowed his eyes and saw Mattson on the ground, dazed and holding his stomach. "Get up, you idiot." He snarled, listening to his men screaming and bodies hitting steel.

Hossi ran to the car, jerked open the door and dialed his cellphone. "Call the club. Get some more men. Tell 'em to bring guns. Lots of guns."

Less than a few minutes later, seven men bolted up the steps from Falcone's club, puffing, and ran out to the docks a block away. Hossi was searching in his trunk for a shotgun, and waited for them to arrive. He spoke directly with the orders from Maroni. "The Batman is around here boys. He doesn't belong in our territory. Find him and shoot him down."

As they crept toward the containers, guns leveled ahead of them, they passed the unconscious bodies of the workers. The smallest of the gunmen whispered, "I wish we didn't have to do this, Jon."

His nearest companion hissed. "Shut up, kid."

"I didn't mean nothing, Jon. Only that the Batman is here...He's dangerous. He killed pretty face, Dent, with his bare hands. Just imagine what he will do to us."

"Shut up," Jon repeated. He turned to a third man. "You got any idea on what we should to do the winged-rodent, Mark?"

"You heard, Hossi," Mark repeated. "Find the damn Batman and kill him."

"Maybe we oughta split up." Jon said.

"That ain't such a good idea, Jon," Mark replied, eyes peering at the shadows. "Batman can't n be underestimated. He takes down SWAT teams. Our best bet is to stay as a group. Then when he strikes, we'll take him down all together."

"That's stupid idea, Mark."

This time Mark spoke up. "Shut up, Jon,"

They separated; Jon going into the passage between the containers, Mark and Shawn circling around to the loading area, and the other four creeping through the narrow spaces between the stacks of the crates. A dark shape fell on Jon who then tumbled to the ground unconscious.

Mark inched onto the dock, saw nothing, and then returned to where the containers were stacked. The dark shape leaped from the passageway. An arm flashed into view and yanked Mark back and the shape vanished from where he had been positioned forty-feet away. He shifted his gun. The shape reappeared and Shawn fired at it. Catching the body frame of a man dart across the space between two crates and Shawn fired again, and kept on firing until the hammer of his gun fell on an empty chamber.

"Shit." He fumbled in his coat pocket for a fresh clip and his voice edged with panic as he shouted. "Show yourself, bastard!" He gulped down, watching shadows project from the walls of the crates. His pulse was elevating as his breath was becoming strangled. "Where are you?"

He felt a tap on his shoulder. "Turn around," a raspy voice whispered in his ear.

Shawn swallowed a knot of fear as he turned his head and was stared into a full mask face revealing intense hazel eyes, inches from his, hanging upside down on grapple wire. A gloved hand covered his quivering mouth and he fell to the ground.

Hossi was still outside the stacks of containers and crates, his gun held loosely at his side. He was listening to the distant mummers of traffic. He went to his car and opened the driver's door. He sat down hesitantly, dialing a number as he listened to a harsh tone of a voice.

"What the hell is going on?" Maroni's voice demanded on the other line.

"We've got a problem out here. The Batman."

"Yeah? Then solve it. Unless you want to be floating up river in a pine box." The line disconnected. Hossi took a few deep breaths; his sweaty fingers were gripping his shotgun as he left the car and gingerly moved into the stacks. He lifted his shotgun to waist-level, aimed the barrel ahead of himself, and curled a forefinger around the trigger.

He heard noises coming from the containers; grunts, groans of distress, dull thuds and bone shattering blows. He froze - shotgun half raised.

After two minutes, he was in the passageway searching for his men. All were unconscious except for Shawn who was babbling about a black ninjia. He instantly scoffed and didn't bother to check on his fellow employees who were laying flat on their chests. He fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out his cellphone and hit redial.

"I think we have a serious problem, Sal. All my men have been taken down. What do you want me to do? Clear the drugs or leave everything for the police?" He heard Maroni's hand slam down at his desk.

"Get the hell out of the there. Leave everything."

He staggered back to the car. He turned a sharp corner and continue running down the narrow passageway.

Suddenly something looped around him and he was no longer standing on the pavement. He was being lifted. He stopped when his face was inches from a dark mask that only revealed a slit showing hooded dark eyes. He then realized the masked man was holding him by the ankle, about 10 feet above the ground.

Hossi felt blood rushing in his head. "You're not Batman!" He screamed out, the acid contents of his stomach was churning.

"I'm someone worse." The figure growled. "Where were the drugs going?"

"I'm not telling you shit," Hossi snarled.

Bruce released Hossi and watched the chubby slime drop five feet. His scream was echoing. The grapple wire that looped around him halted his fall. Bruce pulled him back up and grabbed him by a tuff of his greasy hair.

"Maroni," Hossi hashed out. "The shipments were headed to his warehouse in the Narrows before they go to the dealers."

"Narrows?" Bruce growled. "Why?"

"I don't know...I never go to the drop-off points. It's in the Narrows...that's all I know. I swear."

Bruce glared him down and wrapped his hand around Hossi's throat. "You better be telling the truth...if I find out that you lied. I'll be your worst nightmare, Hossi." He rammed his head into the man's skull and waited until Hossi fell unconscious. He released his hold on him and the man's limp body dropped quickly, only to stop mere inches from the ground. Bruce then gently lowered him to the ground and jumped off the crate to the opened boxes. He swiped a packaged sample of coke and disappeared.

* * *

Commissioner Jim Gordon had frustration etched across his face as he stepped out of the patrol car and stared at the group of thugs mounted against the wall of the dock warehouse. His officers were placing handcuffs on their wrists. Detective Renee Montoya walked over to him with a stern look on her face.

"What do we have?" Gordon asked.

"We got a call - anonymous," Montoya said. "Found a coke shipment in the container labeled 'Hong Kong'; worth maybe three million on the street. We have Wilmer Rossi as well." She pointed to the Italian sitting in the backseat of the patrol car with handcuffs.

Gordon gestured a hand to the men against the wall. "These guys?"

"I'm not sure, Commissioner. Some of them are Maroni's men. But they're not talking." she paused. "One security guard did say that a masked figure took them down. I'm guessing the Batman."

Gordon shook his head. "It doesn't matter, detective. The important thing is that drugs will not be on the streets any time soon." He shifted his eyes and noticed a black clad figure crouched down like a gargoyle. A man not wearing a cape and cowl perched on the ledge - watching...

* * *

One hour afterwards, Selina was halfway from Old Town, now jumping from rooftop to the next as her fingers clutched a bag of fine stone-cut diamonds that Carlo Fandez paid her with only twenty minutes ago. A small profit that would finance her plane ticket to her next heist in the heart of Monty Carlo, for a short business affair, and a few jewelry stores to plunder during the night hours.

She jumped to another rooftop, her heels absorbing the shock, as her hyper-aware senses spiked. She scanned the area carefully, keeping her eyes sharp as movement came from the shadows.

Behind her, something whistled from the shadows and the bag sliced opened. All the diamonds spilled out around her boots. "What the hell?" she scowled in a fierce tone. Her skin grew tense as she moved to the ledge and felt a warm presence enter through her skin-tight leather. Reacting quickly, she twisted around and stared at a dark menacing figure crouched down on the ledge with familiar utility belt wrapped around his wrist. His gloved fingers were gripping the cement. His powerful gaze retracted moonlight as he straightened up and jumped down, blocking her path.

Her jaw tightened as she stared directly into his eyes. Her back stiffened into a rigid posture.

"Hello there, stranger," Selina said, looking at his eyes glimmer as she took a few steps back, putting distance between her and the ninja. "To what do I owe this evening encounter?"

"You have something that I want," he said, in a raspy, gravelly voice that made a shiver dance long her spine.

"You wouldn't be the first, handsome." she replied. Her eyes slipped a gaze as she looked at him up and down.

"Those diamonds didn't from a store in Gotham. Who are you working for?"

She sauntered into the shadows, enjoying the childish game she was playing with him. She leaned across the stairwell, her back arching against the steel. He became stone-like with his heavy eyes watching her expressions. He walked around in front of her, anticipating her next move and weaknesses. He allowed himself to drink up the sight of this young woman in the skin-tight black costume and high-tech mask that she wore to hide her dark brown eyes. The whole suit struck him as both practical and flattering. Instantly he read the flare of "feline" theatrics.

"I don't know," she admitted with a sly smile. She stepped out of the umbra of the stairwell and seductively began to circle in front of him. "I never got his name." she rubbed her lips together. "So what are you going to do with me...arrest me ..chase me or maybe something a bit more dangerous."

Bruce arched an eyebrow underneath the mask. "I don't have time for this." He fixed his dark eyes back to her. "What can you tell me about your employer? I need to know what he's planning to do with his shipments."

_So he's not as dumb as he dresses._ She thought, looking over him thoughtfully and putting the pieces together. "I must say that I prefer the old costume better."

He peered into her for moment, eyes raking over her plump redden lips."Sadie," he rasped out, turning his head she walked behind him.

"You're not the only one that wears a mask, handsome." She hesitated before coming clean about her guise. "What can I say... It's a living." She bent down and gathered the diamonds into her cupped hand.

He caught a note of playfulness in her voice.

"Stealing isn't a living. It's a crime." He growled, watching her shapely shoulders shrug.

"Hey, when a girl's desperate - she does what she has to." She replied with a lace of bitterness. "Even when she doesn't want to."

Bruce pulled out an envelope from his uniform's pocket and flashed it before her eyes. "I owe something, don't I?" He drew closer and handed her the envelope. "You saved my life. And for that I owe this to you."

She hesitated to take it from him. Instead her eyes narrowed beneath her mask. "You don't owe me anything." She said. "I did what I had to do to save your life. That's rare for a girl like me." She lifted her head and saw that his eyes where burning into hers with intensity.

"No. You keep it." his tone was growing smooth. "You deserve to have something that wasn't stolen."

"Then I don't want it." she admitted. "It's no fun when you get what you want for free." Then she moved a few inches to him. "Everything has it's price."

"Then what do you want?" he growled, stuffing the envelope into the area of her exposed neck. She looked into his eyes once again. His expression was fierce, almost threatening.

"Wouldn't you like to know handsome," she lifted up the mask revealing his soft lips. At first he took an alarming step back, but without warning, he yanked her to him and covered her mouth in a hungry kiss as they both ignited with flames of driven passion. His mask was slipping slowly off his face as her lips brushed against his expose jaw. She was even surprising herself as low pleasurable moans escaped from her throat while theirs tongues tangled and their breaths became heavy.

She broke away, licking her lips as she tasted him.

He grabbed her by the hair, angled her head back and devoured her into another deep kiss as his lips latched onto hers. She gasped fervidly closing her eyes as he became magnetic, electric and deadly.

Her hands clenched his shoulders and they panted nose to nose, and he ran his tongue tenderly over her bottom lip as they were ready to deepen into another breathless kiss.

A patrol helicopter swept past overhead, continuing the man hunt. Bruce suddenly stepped back and pulled down his mask and headed to the fire escape. Selina jumped down the ledge and blew him a kiss.

"Until next time," she said, looking down at him with a smirk as her instincts of malevolence consumed over her body. "Mr. Wayne." she said under her breath before jumping into the air.

Bruce took off the mask and wiped the smeared crimson lipstick off the corners of his mouth. "And there will be a next time." He said in a low whisper as his eyes studied a splotch of crimson to analyze on his fingertip.

He turned his head to direction of the stream of light coming from the patrol copter and quickly descended down the steps until he was cloaked within the shadows knowing that if he continued the war on crime, there would be many late nights like this one on the shadowy rooftops. Ultimately he would become involved with high-adrenaline chases with the game of "cat and flying mouse" with her.

Bruce licked his lips and smacked his boots on a narrow alley's pavement. He knew that he wouldn't be able to resist her enticing allure. He knew that she was hiding her identity from him. He was going to be patient and let her tell him the real name of the woman who poured life back into him every time he looked into those chocolate eyes and her lips of crimson.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

The next morning Alfred Pennyworth, chiming an old English ditty was he climbed the stairs of Century Towers carrying the usual breakfast assemble of oatmeal and fresh juice that was neatly presented on a serving tray. He stopped to admire the spectacular view of downtown Gotham's gleaming skyscrapers from the huge floor to ceiling windows. He stopped with a hint of annoyance glimmering in his wintery blue eyes as a frown cast over his wrinkled when he beheld a still-made bed.

"Why do even I bother," he murmured.

Then he returned to the kitchen, filled a silver thermos with Colombian coffee, and took the elevator down to the building's garage.

Several minutes later, he parked the Rolls Royce in the usual spot in front of lopsided shipping fright located in the secured railroad yard. He pulled out the key from his vest pocket and opened a padlock on the container's hatch, the stepped inside.

A hiss. The floor lowered, talking Alfred to the low-ceiling chamber, his eyes settled on Bruce sitting amidst the clutter of unopened cases, printers and cluster of flat-screen monitors. The young billionaire's eyes were locked at the GCNN of the morning footage with Mayor Gracia giving his introduction of the speech at Harvey Dent's public funeral outside of City Hall.

"It will nice when the construction of Wayne Manor is finally finished, and you can swap not sleeping in a penthouse for not sleeping in your mansion.," Alfred said walking casually over to the massive computer desk. He stepped and twisted the cap off the thermos while staring at a few blood stains on the ninja armor. "I suspect that you made a bloody mess at some part of the city." He noticed the newest attention of purple bruising on Bruce's bicep.

"Did Leslie not mention that your body hasn't healed properly?" He chided with his young master, Bruce kept his head down and focus on the splotch of Sadie's lipstick on his glove. "If you keep on living dangerously with your nightly activities in that cowl you be spending the rest of your days in wheelchair. Is that what you want?"

"I know my limits, Alfred." Bruce replied busying himself with typing on the keyboard. "I don't need to be reminded about the consequences for my actions when it comes to protecting Gotham."

Alfred released a fuming breath and pointed at the screen that displayed the live footage of Harvey Dent's casket. "What about him?" he dejected. "Harvey Dent knew the risks of fighting for this city and still he failed because let madness push him to his limits."

"Dent gambled with chance, Alfred." Bruce shot back as grim images of his last encounter with the tortured DA flashed in his mind. "He became a pawn in the Joker's game of logic of human error. Because he compromised with that psychopath's madness I lost the one person that I loved." He sighed and averted his eyes away from the screen trying to fight the tear stinging in his eyes as he thought about Rachel. "She was going to wait for me after Gotham was safe...after I finished with the Batman."

Alfred gave a reassuring squeezed on his young master's shoulder. "I know how much you loved her, Master Wayne." he said feeling a ping in his chest as the weight of burning Rachel's shoulder hung over his shoulders. "Miss Dawes was very dear to us and she would want you to quit blaming yourself and move on with your life."

"How can I, Alfred?" Bruce somberly asked. "I was the reason she died. I should have known that the Joker had a trick up his sleeve when he gave me those addresses in the observation room. I underestimated him. Something I will not do again with any opponent."

Alfred narrowed his eyes."I just want you know," his voice was faltering. "Despite what happened I will never give up on, sir. Just as long you don't give up on yourself." he continued. "There will be a time when you will fall into the void and I will be there to help you rise back up."

Bruce turned his gaze to his butler and gave him tender a smile and nodded. No other words needed to be said to between them. He rose from the chair and walked over to a work bench that had a pressed white dress shirt and tie hanging from it. He quickly pulled off his t-shirt, revealing the collection of scars bruises amidst the dark freckles of the muscular planes of his back.

Alfred finally spoke once more. "Where are you heading out to?"

He quickly slid his sore arms through the sleeves and turned to look at Alfred. "I'm seeing Fox. I have a lipstick sample that needs to be analyzed." he replied watching a cheeky smile form on his butler's face. "I know what your thinking." he expressed a pointed look. "And its has nothing to do with a murder investigation. I need know if certain resourceful woman I been crossing paths with can be trusted."

"This woman won't be the same one that save your life in the warehouse?" Alfred asked looking at the young man purse his lips at the question as Bruce fixed the collar of his shirt.

"And here I thought I was the detective." Bruce replied buttoning up his shirt. " She's a very young thief that wears a mask...sort makes her have the appearance like a cat."

"Cat?" Alfred repeated. "Well then, I think you've met your match, Master Wayne."

Bruce half-rolled his eyes. "What makes you say that?" he asked with a light smirk. "I don't even know her that well to even think about..." he cleared his throat. "I don't have time to presume a relationship. Besides she's a criminal that abolishes everything that I stand for, Alfred."

"Are you sure about that, Master Wayne?" Alfred raised his eyebrows.

"If you suddenly become a my matchmaker over night to set me up with female larcenist," Bruce tersely said. "You'll be looking for new employment."

"In that case Master Wayne, you better know your limits." Alfred replied with a devilish grin noticing the darkness of his master's eyes fading a shimmer of light became captured into his pupils. "Sometimes a woman's love can be a man's greatest strength when he faces his own demons."

Bruce felt his lips curve into a gentle smile. "I have to admit she is beautiful in her strength." He looked down at the glove clutched in his hand. "I know there's more to her," he paused and looked at black armor on the desk. "Alfred I need you prepare my suit while I'm out."

"Which suit would that be, sir?" Alfred teased. "You've got many to choose from."

"The Bat suit." Bruce replied. "I'm not hiding who I am from Gotham. This city needs the Batman if it comes."

"What comes?" Alfred asked with confusion etched on his brow.

"War."

* * *

An hour later, Bruce was standing next to Lucius Fox at the Applied Sciences Division of Wayne Enterprises. They were standing in front of monitor showing DNA scans of the sample of lipstick that he manged to collect on the finger tip of his glove and Fox was saying, "compared to your usual requests of analyzing thumb prints on bullet casings that seems oddly distrusting to hack into a secured database of Gotham police files for the identity of woman. You better have a good reason of bringing this one me, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "I'm thinking about pursuing a relationship."

"Then I suggest casual dating." Fox replied looking at the results of the download on the screen. "Here's your information." he pulled out a JPEG and handed to Bruce. "Everything from birth certificates and criminal records. I suggest that you be highly careful. Invading into someone's privacy can be dangerous." he paused. "Now is there anything else you trouble me with while we're down here."

"I need a reinforced knee brace." He pulled out a diagram that he drew up with the details of his leg injury. "It would sure make it easy to walk into board meetings without using a cane."

Fox chuckled under his breath. "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Wayne."

* * *

A few minutes later Bruce sat in his desk chair of the CEO office, his eyes narrowed at the screen of his laptop. He plugged in the JPEG and within moments of searching in the download files of police data and information on high-end breaking and entering in penthouses and jewelry stores. After a few hits on the enter key a photo appeared of a young woman dressed in a black, auburn hair tied back in a bun and alluring face was flawless. He locked his gaze on her striking brown eyes and red full lips. She posing for a mug shot from the Detroit police database. For a moment he simply stared at her, and then his eyes fell to the her name highlighted in green.

"Selina Kyle," He whispered as her name flowed off his tongue. "Selina."

* * *

After climbing over a drunken mark sleeping on the stairwell, Selina cautiously unlocked the door and entered her cramped apartment, turning her gaze to the piles of unwashed dishes in the sink that instantly made her cringe as went through the threshold and found everything exactly as she'd left it. She placed her newest addition for her book collection that she managed to swipe from the downtown library on her makeshift bookshelf.

Suddenly a cold shiver danced along her spine as she sense an unwelcoming and undetectable presence in the air. She crept closer to the closet space bathroom, pulled out her handgun from the hostler strap attached to her thigh and when she gingerly flipped on the light, she sighed.

There was nothing, just an empty tub and sink. She furrowed her eyebrow feeling suddenly ridiculous and began to lower her gun but a dark shape caught her eyes as it reflected in the mirror. She counted to three and turned around with her finger curled on the trigger, and scanned the apartment and then shook her head feeling her instincts betraying her as she kept her dark eyes focused on the shadows.

"I need a drink," she murmured, placing the gun back in the hostler and walked to the kitchenette. She opened the fridge and looked at the half empty jug of milk and a few chocolate bars on the shelf. "Why am I not surprised?" she scowled with a hint of irritation in her voice and slammed the door. With an unsatisfied glare and a rumble of an empty stomach she sauntered to her vanity.

A creaking in the floor, made her stop in her tracks. She felt her heart pounding against her rib cage and blood boiling as the haunting sound came from every direction of the darken apartment. She slid her hand down her thigh and pulled out her weapon once again, she was about to point the barrel at the wall when , a gloved hand grabbed her wrist and another one snatched the gun from her clutch and threw it across floor.

She tried to scream to awake her neighbors but one of the hands was covering her mouth. "Relax, Miss Kyle."

_Him._ Her eyes flashed with anger and she struggled against the firm armored body behind her that was holding her tightly, but her automatic defense reflexes start burn in her veins. She raised her sharp heel and was ready to dig it into her attackers leg at the same moment when she felt his arms release her. She twisted around and stared into the menacing dark eyes underneath the pointed eared cowl and knew that he figured out her identity either by interrogating Jen or he used his own detective skills.

He stood before her in the moonlight, a powerful creature of the night as she raked her eyes over his slender body and then moved them up to his curvy lips. He looked threatening and nightmarish and unbearably sexy in the suit. He wore his mask as if he was beast but he wasn't dominated by concealed rage that flowed through his body, and after finally absorbing the semblance of Batman, she smirked, "Don't you that it's impolite to invade a girls personal space."

"You, lied," he replied with deep and low tone that sent chills through her body.

Her eyes darkened. "What can I say...it's in my nature."

"Selina Kyle," he said her falling on his lips as he watched amusement curve on her lips.

She stared at him, her delicate features masked with shadow, and he decided to continue with one word. "Jewel thief."

"Jewel thief?" she repeated with a sly grin.

He shook his head. "Wearing other people's finger prints is very effective," he said with a hint of grudging admiration in his deep voice watching her lips play out a defiant smirk. "From the recent headlines you've had a few close calls, Miss Kyle."

She stared into his eyes for a few moments as her ingenious mind conquered up an answer. " So you've been doing your research, detective." she moved close enough to feel the heat of his body enter her bones. "Find anything interesting?"

His lips formed a straight line at this. "No convictions yet."

"You have to admit I'm good at what I do," she purred. "I'm improving every day."

He paused for a moment. "You may be good," he said, " but the soon you feel the ground sinking under your feet."

She clenched her jaw hard. "I'll take my chances."

"I know that you're trying to survive, Miss Kyle." he spoke gently shifting his eyes to the urban decay of her dwelling " It's not easy to live when you don't have much to support yourself. Stealing isn't the answer. You can take your chances but soon your crimes all catch up at you when that happens you will be left with nothing."

"You think you just come in my home and judge me." she said through her gritted teeth. "You don't know damn thing about me,"

"I know more about than you think," he growled.

Selina released a bitter laugh. "Hah. Prove it." She dared while backed away and crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

"Well," he said. "I know that you're trying to fix your mistakes of the past."

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, "Our mistakes define us."

He was closer to her, circling around like a predator. "You're reckless," he continued. "A woman of practicality and deception that uses your talents for thrill seeking heists to support a finance that will give you life away from Gotham." he took a quick glance at the framed Italian paintings on the walls. "Possibly Italy."

"A girl of my talent always needs to have a back up plan, wouldn't you agree?" she paused with a virulent glare. "Mr. Wayne."

He stared down at her, his eyes burning behind the slits of the cowl. She didn't flinch or show any glimmer of weakness in her dark eyes, then, she decided to elaborate a bit. "You're not the only one that can unmasked someone's identity with just a few pounds on a keyboard."

He stopped circling around and stood inches away. His eyes flaming with intensity as she became trapped within in his dominant gaze. "So you figured it out," he said with distaste in his voice. "I have to admit..." He fought against the reluctance constricting in his throat. " I'm impressed by your skillfulness. To bad you couldn't put your skills to good use instead idolizing criminality."

Selina felt her pulse accelerate even more, but she held her ground and looked directly into his eyes. "Now where would be the fun in that," she retorted. "It's more thrilling breaking the law than it is serving it."

"You think so."

"Trust me, once you get a taste of it," she spoke with a hiss of malice in her voice. "You'll start to crave it more and more until it consumes you."

Batman shook his head and said looking into her deliquescent chocolate chasms. "You're a criminal, but you're not an abnormality to the society. I know what makes a real monster."

She rolled her eyes. "How would you about what makes a person a monster?"

"I fight for my humanity every night. I can cross the line so easy that every time I face with the monsters that ravage through the city I always on verge of becoming one. All it takes is a choice to become the hero of your own life or the villain for else, Miss Kyle." he paused for moment. "When I look into you eyes, I see a woman who is trying to fight the monsters, Miss Kyle."

She watched him lower his eyes in a dispiriting demeanor. "You're not a monster. But the people is in city think differently, soon you'll be tasting the coldness of being discarded by everyone who believed in that sucker Harvey Dent."

He released words of dismal and whispered. "I can take it."

"Why?" she looked into his eyes and searched for the key to unlock the answer of her question. "You've done a lot for this city. I know that you didn't break Dent's neck." She took a bold step forward. They were in the some stuffy air as she purred against his body. "Why risk it your freedom for those people who don't give a damn who you are?" she was coldly calculating his enshrouded despair. "You be locked away in padded cell at Arkham with the real monsters this city birthed."

"What difference does that make to you, Miss Kyle?" he growled. " I thought you were an a person of insouciance."

She felt her masked slipping, her eyes narrowed. Those cold words seemed to strip the pieces of her soul, and she listened to the odd tone of his voice almost like he was arising.

"I'm only empathic when I want to be," she spat. "You're the one that is glorying apathy. Letting these people of this shit hole control you. Nothing is free in this world. Everything always has a price even our lives. But no one take it away from you unless you give up the fight."

"Is this how you justify your mortals?" he settled his eyes on the diamond pendant around her neck.

She smirked defiantly. "What can I say, I love bending the rules."

With a brief swipe of his fingers, the necklace was detached from her neck in his hand. "I know that you're better than this." he paused clutching the piece of jewelery in his hand. He lifted his gaze. "Somewhere underneath that mask you know it to,"

"Sorry handsome," she ejected trying to recover the necklace. "I wear many masks."

He deposited the necklace in a compartment of his belt. "It's up you to take choose to take them off."

"Oh really," she accosted, her body shook with anger. "What makes you think I want to?"

"You want to reveal your true shelf from the shadows of the pain that you wear. You want to feel the freedom that was taken from you. And most importantly," he said, looking mildly into her eyes, "you don't want to conceal the real Selina Kyle underneath to the people who you care about."

She creased her eyebrows and looked at him strangely as pulled himself closer into her space, placing his hand on her cheek.

"I don't even know if I even care," she said when his hand retreated. "I have no reason to."

"I think you do," he replied.

"I'm still trying to figure out why you came to my home." she said. "I'm not your type of woman to be seeing with, Mr. Wayne."

He felt amusement play on the edges of his lips and then did a slight shrug before she could take a step back he moved his hand down to back of her neck and pressed a kiss on her lips.

She literally felt a spark ignite in her soul, feeling the material of his gripping gloves thread through her the silky locks of dark auburn. She tried to resist the warmth of his savory lips, and when he deepened to the kiss, she approved, gasping when his tongue glided along her bottom lip before slipping inside her hollow mouth and entwining with hers.

A faint moan pierced through her lips as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her hands grasped the slides of the cowl. She eased the graphite mask off his face, threw it on one of the cushions of her ratty couch and slammed her eyes as she felt her flesh and bones liquefying into his scorching embrace.

When he pulled away at the wails of sirens echoing in the streets, she opened her eyes and for moment to ingest every detail of his face. Her eyes raked over the curvatures of his face, sloped nose and hooded eyes smelted with light gold and dark green as dangling dark hung loosely over his sweaty brow. "Damn you're gorgeous ," she breathed out watching him smirk. "Oh...I mean you still haven't answered my question."

"I think you already know the answer to that," he said, nose to nose with her, "Selina."

"Wait...hold on a second." she took a moment to decode what was happening between them. Her eyes flashed dangerously with a hint anger. "You came here because..."

"You'll finger it out," he said before crashing a kiss on her lips once, and this she surprised herself and gave him everything she had when is response as every fiber of her body felt slain by the unspoken passion growing between them.

Within moments both of their bodies were producing untamed heat as she pressed her firm breasts hard against his plated torso and pushed him closer to her makeshift bed, they were inches away when her heel caught the end of his cape and suddenly they both collided with the floor. She kissed him with feverish paces of breath, having total control of his body feeling his tongue slip and slide in her mouth as his rubbed his hands on her back, pulling her sweater up until his finger curled underneath her bra.

His warm lips burned themselves against the flesh of her neck and she dug her nails into the thick waves of his hair that defined his damper appearance, and when he lifted his head to cover her mouth again, she looked into her eyes and said, "You know it's not going to easy. I was never the one for a close relationship." she narrowed her eyes. "I'm the last person you should want , Mr. Wayne."

He grinned and smoothed the hair off her forehead as her fingers moved on the Kevlar plates of his suit. "We're more like than you assume, Miss Kyle."

She slid her finger over the sharp edges of his mouth, inside she knew that he was right. He was shade of black and tint of white in her impermanent world as she was the shade of grey in his, then without saying another word to fuse an argument between them, she undid his belt, wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders as he was suddenly pinned to the floor and she was straddling her thighs tightly on his waist. She lowered her lips and breathed against his. "I have a feeling its going to be a long night."

"I'm used to it," he replied, and pressed his lips softly on hers as they deepened into a devouring kiss.

Both Selina and Bruce felt their souls connect as they embrace in the shadows of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

It was late in the morning when Alfred walked through the long hallway leading to the master bedroom carrying the usual routine breakfast of oatmeal with almonds and berries securely in his hands. He steadily paced to the room's door way as his mind was anticipating that he would find his young master cocoon in a ball of bedding. He stopped near the glass ornamental water foundation at the foot of the bed. His blue eyes scanned over the still-made bed and a pair of slippers on the square rug. He stiffened his jaw and shifted his gaze to the empty leather chairs near the wall to ceiling windows.

"Master Wayne," he called thinking that his employer was cautiously shaving in the bathroom. When there was no reply he simply shook his head. "Where the bloody is that stubborn boy?" his voice murmured feeling a knot of dread building up in his gut. He quickly moved to the nightstand and settled the tray down, and then turned on the flat-screen to watch the morning news report of GNN.

A beautiful red-haired journalist with her name on the side of the screen : Viki Vale. She was on the steps of the Gotham City Hall buildings. Her striking blue eyes were hidden behind light lens designer glasses and she firmly held a microphone in her grasp as she was interviewing Commissioner James Gordon.

"Commissioner," she asked pleasantly. " With no sign of the Batman people of Gotham are wondering if this city is safe from the terror of the masked vigilante." she continued pressing the question. "After the incident at the Gotham Docks many are questioning if the Batman has come out of his hiding?"

"We're doing everything we can to insure the protection of Gotham citizens, Miss Vale." Gordon answered with a shaky voice. "If the Batman has come out of hiding then my officers will deal with the situation in a calm and collective approach to the arrest of the vigilante. Thank you." He nodded to the camera and swiftly moved up the steps.

Vale stood there with a blank expression on her face before bring the microphone back up. "There you it have. A short statement from the Commissioner of police planning the arrest of the rogue murdered known as the Batman. Back to you, Mike."

Alfred switched off the television. He furrowed his wrinkled brow. "Where are you, Master Wayne?"

* * *

Selina woke to the wailing sound of speeding EMS vehicle echoing through the busy streets. She squinted at the warm sunlight filtering through the ajar balcony door and she let out a blissful purr as it vibrated against the depths of her throat. She stretched her arms over her head and then she quickly realized at she was on the floor, bare naked with only a blanket covering the lower half of her body. A low groan from her left instantly reminded her that she wasn't alone.

She slowly turned her stiffen neck and took in the sight of a fully naked Bruce Wayne, lying on his side with his cape rolled into a ball with his sculpted arm under his head, pieces of his bat suit spilled across the floor, yawning as he woke as unwillingly and squinted his eyes as the light became captured into his pupils. He parted his lips and released a steady breath and she saw his defining indents of his jaw becoming more pronounced as his sharp edges of his lips curled into a cozy smile. His hand lifted his hand and brushed the curly ringlets of her hair off her forehead. Her brows furrowed but she remained silent, and her mind drifted back to last night.

It was a night that most woman could only dream. They had shared themselves fully on the cold groves of the wooden floor as both of kissed passionately and crazy while doing erotic waltzes with impacting thrusts that it was almost brutal to their bodies. They were both determined to break through each others territory and establish dominance- it was almost impossible as they produced liquid fire while becoming equally out-matched with their fervid desires, suffocating pleasure and uncontrolled emotions that ripped through their bodies during the moments of total and untamed brutally.

At one point she wondered how exactly a man who had been shot, stabbed and physically battered with death blows to the skull could have maintained such stamina that managed to nearly wreck her cluttered apartment in the process- photo frames were smashed on the floor, chairs of the kitchenette unturned and book selves were slanted to the point that the nails were barely supporting the piles of literature. She could see by his grimacing that he was paying. She felt a little guilt for slamming his back into the floor and unleashing her unpredictable fury into him during those intoxicating hours.

"Morning handsome," she purred as he stared in her eyes with a still gaze.

He smiled. "Good morning, beautiful." he said, widening his mouth and releasing a long yawn. "What time is it?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know." she shifted her eyes to the windows. "I guess it's late in the morning."

"Morning," He repeated. His eyes grew wide as saucers. He reeled up off the floor while pursing in his lips. "I wasn't planning on staying this long." he panted. "I shouldn't have-last night - _urgh._"

"Don't tell me that you stay out until midnight," she said with a coyly smirk, sitting up and feeling particularly self conscious of her own state of being undress. She wrapped the blanket of her breasts. "I thought bats were creatures of the night."

"Only to a certain of the night." he replied with logical tone. "It's forbidden for a bat to see the sunlight."

She rolled her eyes, sightly amused. "I can see that you take this whole flying mouse thing to the full level...do you sleep upside down in a cave?"

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "I..." She looked at his Adams Apple move up and down as he gulped. "No."

She narrowed her eyes to the bandaged placed over his abdomen and watched him press his hand on the healing infliction. His breath was coming in quick pants as he rose from the floor. She was hypnotized by the scars that littered his body and the evidence of the battles he'd prevailed, but she raised her eyes to the level with his. "Still recovering?"

He was still wincing, he nodded as he slowly gripped the edge of the dresser. "I'm use to waking about like this." he replied with a little rasp in his voice. He shifted his eyes to her dark ones. "But I'm not use to seeing a beautiful woman in the morning...only me berating butler." He paused and rubbed his swollen lips together. "I could get use to waking up like this."

She wrapped the blanket around her tighter. "Sorry handsome, but I do like my personal space now and then."

He grinned at little bit. "So do I, Selina."

She returned his grin and moved to the threshold. "If you thinking about breakfast...I don't have much." she narrowed her eyes with a look of shame. "I only have enough to survive."

"Don't worry about it," he grunted, moving closer to her. "I'm not really a big morning person." He wrapped his hand over his waist, he could still maintain the chronic pain of his injuries, but his last brawl at the docks had increased his physical problems exponentially and his busted knee was releasing throbbing jolts underneath the leg brace. He took a few swallow exhales and his cheeks turned slightly red from embarrassment of his vulnerability. "I'll take you out for breakfast. I own a few a places."

"Thanks but no thanks," she said, walking into her enclosed kitchen area. "I'm never one for men to splurge on." She opened a cupboard and pulled out two mugs. "Do you like coffee? It's instant."

"No, Selina. I want to take you out." he replied, leaning his body against the frame "Consider this a part of my gratitude for you saving my life." He looked directly at her frozen expression. "You deserve to be splurged on, Selina Kyle."

"Gratitude?" she arched up her left eyebrow. She watched him run his hand through his dark ruffled hair. " We already had sex. I think that's enough gratitude for one day."

"True," he replied, managing a firm poise. "I know that you haven't eaten a decent meal for a long time. In fact I think you starve yourself sometimes because you have someone else living here with you."

Selina looked at him with harden glare. "Don't worry about me. I know how to handle my body. Unlike some people." She clenched her stomach tightly as the rumbling growl broke the silence between them. She ignored the annoyance of emptiness in her gut. "I'll eat when I'm ready."

He shook his head. "Sorry, but I can't allow you to start your day on an empty stomach. You're a brazen cat burglar and need you build your strength up." he explained. "One slip up can cost your life if your not focused and not healthy."

She clenched her jaw. "Did you suddenly become a doctor overnight ?" she asked with a hint of growl. "I don't need you to tell me how to take of myself. I know risks of surviving the backdrops of this city. I've lived all these years fending for food that your people simply throw away in the trash."

"I know what it's ;like to survived with only your clothes on your back." He said to her, keeping his eyes settled on her growling stomach.

"How?" she asked tersely, with a puzzling look. "You're the prince of Gotham. Women kiss your feet. How could you know how to fend on the streets? "she gritted her teeth. "You've never tasted desperate."

"There's more about me than you think," he replied, thoughts of his travels of abroad for seven years crossed his mind. "Believe or not I stole from shipping port market places, so I wouldn't starve. However, I never became a criminal."

"You stole," she snorted with snarky attitude. "I don't believe you."

"You wouldn't be the first," he replied looking down at the smear of lipstick on his abdomen. He's lips became firm as he quickly reached for his rolled up cape and covered his lower frontal with the black cloth as it caused to break into a sweat as he whole face became a shade of red.

"You mean to tell me that you actually stole something without using your wallet, Mr. Wayne?" she spoke with a low voice and flashed her lashes at him.

"It was a long time ago," he instantly shot back as he looked up at her. "I had to do what was necessary to survive without the comfort of luxuries that I received from this city."

She looked at him with a bit of amusement stretched across her lips. "I'm glad were starting to understand each other. I'll be in the shower. You can make the coffee...unless you want to join me."

"Would that be an opened invitation?" Bruce asked with a grin.

She sauntered out of the small kitchenette and he couldn't take his eyes off of her until she flattened her back against the door frame of the bathroom. "Only if you want it to be?" she gave him a dangerous glint in her dark eyes before blanket slipped off her bare skin and he stared down at the curve of her ass. " So are you brave enough to take a shower with me, handsome?" she purred sliding her hands down to her thighs. "Or does this succeed beyond your playboy limitations." She flicked on the light switch and moved to the shower stall, pulled open the grey floral curtain and turned the knobs until she was satisfied with the right temperature.

Bruce watched her disappear into the stream that engulfed the small space, he was about to enter the bathroom when he heard his mobile phone ring inside a compartment of his belt. He paced to the living area and pulled out the phone. "Alfred?" he asked pretending to have a groggy voice. "What time is it?"

"You know very well what the bloody time is, Master Wayne." The concerned butler's voice echoed in his ear. "Where are you?" There was a long pause. "Are you hurt, sir?"

"Nope. " Bruce replied, shifting his eyes back to the bathroom. He chewed his bottom with anticipation scorching in his veins. "I'm fine, Alfred. In fact I've never felt this good in a long time."

"Bloody hell, you've been drugged again." Alfred said with a loud gasp.

"No, Alfred. I haven't been drugged by any hallucinations." he said, with a curvy smirk. "I'm in safe place. You have nothing to worry about. I'll be back at the penthouse later."

He hung up and narrowed his eyes to the pieces of the bat suit spread across the room. He quickly pulled on the lower half of the suit, and the torso piece when he heard the shower turn off. He leaned his body slight back to catch of view of Selina drying herself off and slipping into a black silk bathrobe that barely reached her mid-thighs, then she swayed passed the threshold to see something unbelievably amusing-Bruce Wayne hastily dressing into his armor.

"Really?" she asked, tying her drenched her back into a twist. He looked up at her while adjusting his gauntlets and then grabbed his cowl.

"Something as come up," he said, feeling beads of sweat falling to his brow. She crossed her arms.

"Right," she said, with a hint of disappointment. "Anyway, I'm making some coffee. No milk left, though- sorry about that."

He almost laughed, because he saw right through her unemphatic mask. When he latched the belt over his trim waist, she suddenly moved inches to him and her lips pressed themselves against his without any warning.

She wrapped her arms over his broad neck and felt his arms snake around her waist as he pushed her against him. She broke the kiss abruptly as she began the interlock, and said easing the cowl over his messy hair, "If you needed a pair of pants you just had to ask."

He grinned at her. "I prefer my coffee black anyways, Selina Kyle." He framed his hands over her face and pressed a soft kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes and he pulled away. "Have dinner with me tomorrow night?" he asked with a whisper against her ear.

"Tomorrow night?" she repeated opening her eyes. "But I have work to do. Unless we have dinner at midnight." She watched his hazel eyes narrow behind the cowl's slits. "Midnight works perfectly for me."

"Alright. Midnight then."

"Will you be wearing your suit and tie or your evening attire?" she asked lifting up his cape.

"Depends. I'm not really supposed to be seen in the suit."

She narrowed her eyes down to the embossed bat insignia and swirled her over the edges. "I'm sure we can find a way to elude the blood hounds for one night." she pressed on. "Meet me at Gotham cathedral. Don't keep me waiting. Because I know where to find you, Mr. Wayne." She curved her lips into sly smile.

He nodded and moved to the balcony, she looked down at the cape trailing behind his steps. When he opened the door he turned and looked at her with his dark eyes. "For what it's worth I like the name Selina instead of Sadie."

Selina shrugged and narrowed her eyes slightly. "Bruce..." she lifted up her gaze and saw that he was gone. Her skin tingled as she moved to the balcony and stared down at Batman melting into the shadows of the alley. She shook her head feeling the foreign vibes rushing through her body. She couldn't understand why a privileged playboy would spend his night making love with a lower-class woman from the wrong side of the tracks. She mashed her teeth into her bottom lip and noticed something on the dresser.

She lifted piece of paper and looked at the cash piled near a few tattered books. She written the small note.

_Here's some money. Go buy yourself some milk. _

_Bruce._

She ran her hand through her still- damp hair and smiled at the kind gesture the man behind the creation of Batman gave to her. He was full of morals she abashed , incorruptible, compassionate and above all good. She paused momentarily and looked into her own reflection wondering what he saw in her that she couldn't see yet. She scooped up the money and listened to the melody of sirens in streets.

She suddenly wished that time would pass and she didn't have to impatiently wait to see him again without the mask.

* * *

Harley Quinn entered her crammed office, unsettled gaze rolled over the boxed in filing cabinets. She slammed the pile of case files of inmates on the desk and sat down hard into the chair. She took off her glasses and rubbed her temples. Her thoughts drifted to his marred face. All she could hear was his fiendish laughter echoing in the corridors of her mind. She took deep inhale and released the tension. She opened her eyes only to stare at a red rose in a white vase on the corner of her desk.

She knitted her eyebrows and lifted the flower up until it's petals touched the tip of her nose. As she breathed in the sweet lush she noticed a tiny piece of paper attached string wrapped around the stem. With curiosity she read the small note written with red ink.

_Keep smiling my little Harlequin. Mr. J. _

Harley felt the edges of her lips curl into a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

The stench was horrid, Detective Renee Montoya flattened her back against the wall, her dark copper eyes scanned over the yellow police tape billowing in the wind. She was trying to regain her stern composure as she stared directly at Doctor Vanessa Pierce, dressed in dark blue GCFD uniform observing over the spatters of blood on the male victims white shirt and ordering her team of crime scene investigators to set down yellow markers around the body. Releasing a shaky exhale, Montoya gingerly raised the tape above her head and entered the area of crime scene.

"What do we have, Vanessa ?" The dark-haired homicide detective asked, eyes narrowing at the ashen colored face of the victim.

Doctor Pierce turned her piercing blue eyes to Detective Montoya and looked down at the notes on her clipboard. "The victims appears to have suffered ballistic trauma." She pointed to the bullet hole in the victim's forehead. "Disrupted tissue caused severe bleeding after the point of projectile entry." She bent down and used her gloved hands to gently move the victim's neck. "Another point of entry was at Medulla Oblongata. The bullet sliced through this part of the brain that attached to the victim's spinal cord and killed. As a result, caused an instantaneous death stopping all automatic body functions."

Detective Montoya felt the acid level in her stomach churn. "Any evidence left from the murder suspect?"

"Nothing I can confirm, Detective," Doctor Pierce replied, studying the yellow tinge coloring on the victim's cheek. "Until I do a full post-mortem examination we can't suspect with the victim's cause of death was from the gunshot wounds..." Her voice trailed for a moment. " Poisoned with a substance familiar with the compounds used in cyanide."

Detective Montoya raised both of her eyebrows. "You're suggesting that the victim was poisoned to death and then hit in the head twice with a discharged bullet?"

"I already know who the murdered is," came a gruff voice of Harvey Bullock from behind them.. Montoya turned around and faced Harvey Bullock walking up to the crime scene with a hand stuffing glazed chocolate doughnut into his grimy mouth. "It's the damn Bat freak." He declared wiping the crumbs off his scruffy dumpy chin. Both women stared at him with disgust infused within their eyes as he continued. "The masked freak is going on a killing rampage. After he knocked off Dent, he got a taste for blood. Now he's on the hunt for any random citizen."

"I think you inhaled that doughnut too quickly. It's making your brain not working properly, Bullock." Detective Montoya chided lightly. "We can't afford to make any assumptions. Not until the masked vigilante detained in cuffs at the scene of the crime. Gordon wants us to play it safe."

Bullock rolled his eyes. "Any chance I get of nailing that vigilante. I'll take it, Montoya." He narrowed his eyes to his secured firearm tucked into a holster strapped over his brawny chest. " One bullet is all it will take to break the Bat freak's wings." He scoffed fiercely, and then turned back to the patrol car.

Detective Montoya shook her head. "Do you think the Batman murdered Dent, Vanessa?" she asked with a unsettling look etched over her radiant amber features. "It just doesn't fit his profile. After reading up the files of all he's done for this city...it's hard to believe that he would turn rogue and murder all those people."

Doctor Pierce straightened back up, and faced the questionable detective. "Sometimes the logic of human error questions our nature when given the power of responsibly." She looked at one of the CSI's zipping up a bullet into the evidence bag. "I've learned in the studies at the University of Gotham, that we as humans are capable of falling into dark temptations when the power finally consumes us, Renee."

"I still have a feeling that Batman is innocent for those crimes." Detective Montoya dejected taking one final look at the body surrounded by puddles of blood on the pavement. "But I guess only time will reveal the unmasked truth about what really happened that night."

* * *

"Where the bloody hell have you been hiding this morning. Lucius called to remind you that you a have a meeting with with the board members at Wayne Tower. I already pressed your suit jacket. It's waiting for you on the stair railing."

From the elevator near the entrance of the open-spaced kitchen, Bruce took a deep exhale, opened his mouth and looked directly at the good English gentlemen standing in front the stove top with a black apron tied into a knot as he mentally prepared for a suitable and well-thought explanation. He mounted his feet in front of the granite top island that separated the distance them and leaned his backside against the counter top with his arms instinctively crossed over his chest. But before words could pass from his lips, Alfred settled a bowl of oatmeal down in front of him, and a mug of freshly brewed coffee.**  
**

The heavy scent of Colombian grounded coffee filled the air as Alfred turned his focus on Bruce and gestured to his wild mass of hair with bangs covering his dark eyes and the three buttons of a black dress shirt the were undone. The smear of a woman's bright red lipstick stained over the edge of Bruce's mouth. His eyebrows raised and the corners of his wrinkled lips curved up slightly as if to ask, _What the hell did you last night after your elusive scourging of the city, Master Wayne?_

"I was busy handling a B and E in Old Town," Bruce mumbled as he lifted up the steamy bowl to his chest and took a massive bite of oatmeal before he swallowed the hot breakfast. "A efficient jewel thief received most of my attention last night."

Alfred slung a towel for his shoulder and began adding ingredients into a large mixing bowl as he smirked at Bruce lightly. "This jewel thief wouldn't be the same one that has been keeping you occupied for the past few nights. Judging that love bite on your neck I see you've have enjoying your encounters with this lovely_ femme fatale."_

Swallowing his last mouthful hard and having the decency to look dumfounded at the mention off the noticeable bruise on the side of his neck that Selina gave him the night before, Bruce settled the bowl on the granite surface of the island, at the same time making a vigilant effort of buttoning up the remaining top buttons of his shirt before he crossed his broad arms over his chest.

"It's nothing I can't handle-" he began with a firm tone. "I know my limits, Alfred."

"Make sure you do, Master Wayne," Alfred replied with a withering look. " You're young now, sir. But one day you won't be able to fight as used to and you won't be able to protect the people you love."

Bruce's own hazel eyes darkened. "I'll just have to fight harder, Alfred."

Alfred sighed. "I thought what happened to Dent would bring you out of the nightmares you've thrown yourself to when you created that monster of yours." he lowered his eyes. "You're letting it consume you. I just know that one day your creation will betray this city if you don't learn how to control it."

Bruce lightly scowled. "I can control Batman. I know how to handle the dangerous situations I enter. I don't need you telling me how to control my life. You don't know how it feels..." he lowered his head. " To wake up knowing that the reason why your best friend isn't staring at the dawn rising is because you failed to save her life. I will own that, Alfred. Just like everything else I endure." He clutched his hand into a tight fist. "I miss her. I'll keep on missing her until the day finally arrives..."

"What day might that be?" Alfred asked with a hint of moisture building in his eyes.

Bruce his teary gaze and stared at his butler. "When my dawn finally comes." He moved to the kitchen sink and placed the bowl onto the pile of dishes and clenched his eyes shut for moment. "I can't endure losing someone close to me again, Alfred. I won't be strong enough."

Alfred gently placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Yes. You will, Master Wayne." he spoke softly. "One day you will embrace that truth whether it will be Batman or Bruce Wayne."

Bruce nodded.

* * *

The air buffed around Selina, lashing her long hair across her cheeks. The temperature, which had been mild since the March thaw, had increased a few degrees since the night before and resulted into warmer morning than she had felt rush over her lithe form. The sun was shining brightly above, but shadows were still visible across the narrow alleys of the box in housing projects. No matter how much the glistening sunlight shone above the streets, Gotham would always be cold, dark atmosphere.

She sat outside her apartment on the stairwell, observing the lifestyles of the people who dwelt in the ramshackle clusters of brick and grime, the tips of her ballet flats hung of the edge of the wood where her toes curled as she released the tension of listening to the arrangements and disagreements echoing through the hallways of her building. The usual sounds of late- morning. She kept her dark coffee eyes focused on the street below, anticipating that a GCPD cruiser were being parking at the curb to settle another domsetic disturbance. She already had grown accustomed to hearing the violent foul words piercing out of her neighbors lips. Hearing the glass of windows shatter was objects flew out, watching the marks getting their handcuffed asses dragged out and throw into the back of a police car. This was her every day routine.

She curled her long fingers over the base of her coffee mug, narrowing her eyes down at the coffee downed with a layer of 2 % milk she bought at a local convenience store using the money Bruce had left for her. A light ache in her hips rendered annoyance through her body. She had been enduring the tightness in her muscles for hours, neck was tender with faint bruising from his smooth lips and legs throbbing from the strength his well-built body pressed against her. She felt his lingering soft kiss on her lips. His creamy taste was still flowing inside her mouth as she raised the rim of the cup to her lips and took a few sips of the warm liquid. The rich instant coffee seeped down the walls of her perched throat as she gently closed her eyes, trying to block out the disturbances of darkening world around her. It was the only moment of privacy she had to collect her thoughts before the young careless teenager evaded her territory.

She would how this relationship with the billionaire playboy was supposed to work. If they were supposed to settle down and try to live normal lives, or would there be a never ending chase between the cat and the flying mouse over the scenic rooftops of their city with no rules about having expectations with their motives of living the moments of hot passion and fading out when the chance of threats against their own lives risked everything they would have if she took that when bold and risky step of becoming close to him.

Her mind couldn't empty out the high levels of anticipation of their meeting at midnight. _The witching hour_. The time when all the devils would emerge from the darkness of Gotham's underworld.

She couldn't contain the overwhelming pleasure of kissing his soft and smooth lips.

She stared down at the mug of coffee she held, dipping the tip of her finger gently into the liquid and watching the small ripples become absorbed in the contents that was almost the same color of his piercing and trusting hazel eyes. Rich and pure gemstones surrounded by a hood of shadow. Those mixtures of color were the only comfort that could grasp her smoky gray soul, make the enshrouding nightmares dissolve and place a dream back into her.

_Vulnerable_. She mentally chided herself. _Feelings for the attachment is for vulnerable suckers._

The slamming of the apartment door, bought her back to her senses. She twisted her neck and looked over her shoulder at the teenager. Her friend-the closest thing she had to a sister after her youngest sibling was taken away from her-just like everything else in her life. She didn't know how to express love. How to display a caring her to the young girl that idolized her as a mentor. Cherished her as friend and wanted to be loved. She wasn't sure how to feel about those things. How to allow those emotions to be accepted into her heart. She was never one for attachment-not ever since she watched her mother being mercilessly murdered inside their apartment by a drunken bastard with a baseball bat.

"Who was that nice looking piece of ass in our apartment last night, Selina?" Jen asked, chewing one a piece of pink bubble gum, she was leaning her slumped posture against the balcony door frame dressed in black leggings and a fish net style top that barely covered her skin. "Any dead beat of this city would kill to have his looks. Even if it was just for one day. Please tell me that he'll be around our place again?" she said shooting Selina a look of look of exasperation for clicking her heels down a few steps.

"Since when do you care about my personal life, kid?" she asked, questionable look gleaming in her eyes. Her voice sounded irritated but she continued. "Were you spying on me last night? Didn't I tell that evading someone's privacy is dangerous. What goes on in my space is none of your concern. Don't forget you hang with me under my roof."

Her teenage roommate sat on the step behind and rested her chin against Selina's shoulder, a giggle under her breath, causing her reveal the intake of substance she had allowed her nightly profit to seduce her with inside the lower leveled apartments. She was coated with intoxicating yeast and cigarette smoke. Unclean and dishonest. "Since when you make the rules," she pointed out. "Don't tell you've lost you sense of fun. Thought would just make you boring. You're not one of boring bitches in Old Town. You're the thrill seeker that kick those bitches in the ass."

Jen turned and looked at a couple of teenagers standing in the doorway with stolen bottles of whiskey in their hands and tattoos covered over their bodies, laughing it up, having a great time of being under the influence of the concoction of drugs they bought off the street corners. Not one of them looked mature enough to handle the effects of the substance flowing inside their bodies. In fact, they were opening up plastic bags filled with pills and throwing the drugs into the air. "You need to experience the new thrills...Selina." she pouted with annoying puppy dog. "You're the downer of the party right now. Come on," She tugged at Selina's arm imploring her mentor. " Have some fun with us. Please Selina, let loose just this once."

Selina turned away and dropped her eyes to the street below, tapping her polished nails soft on the base of the mug. Her curved her lips into a firm line and shook her head. "I thought you told me, you were going to stop with the drugs. I guess you've received too much temptation from those assholes that don't carry a cent to their names. I warned you many of times that this stuff your under rots your brain. You never listen to damn word I say to you. You never became accountable to the choices you make when given the opportunity. Instead, you let filth cover up your path that you walk. You'll never amount to anything in this world, kid until you stop being reckless with the shit you let in your body." When she looked over her shoulder, she could not help but sneer as the dopey teens. "Do you want to end help like your friends of here?" She pointed to the three girls rubbing their bodies against the door. "They don't care if they live or die. And unless you stop this obsession of yours, kid." She looked at Jen with a piercing glare of infused coffee. "You're going to end up in the slammer or six feet under."

Selina eyed her young friend wearily. "Trust me, kid. You're better off staying off from that shit. And one day, when you stare at a friend in the ICU of Gotham General, you're going to find out that you made good choice." She straightened up from the step and sighed. 'You want to be street smart. Then be smart enough to make your choices on your own. Not these low lifes that have death waiting for them at the door." She quickly poured up the remaining coffee over the edge of the railing. "Take charge with your own life or risk everything. It's up to you."

"Selina," Jen muffled out, narrowing her blue eyes down at her clothing. "This is my career. I worked hard to earn their respect."

Selina placed her hand firmly on the teen's shoulder. "Listen to someone that knows the beat of the city. kid. If they had any respect for you. They wouldn't be allowing you to destroy yourself." She walked up to the balcony door. "Tell your friends to clear out out my place , Before I throw them out." She felt her lips stretch into a smirk as Jen looked up with with a returning grin.

"I take it you'll be seeing that gorgeous stud tonight, Selina?" Jen asked with a hint of a giggle. "Are you going out spoil yourself with another rich suckers MasterCard."

"Maybe," Selina replied with a dangerous gleam in her dark eyes. "Depends on the account balance."

* * *

The sunlight reflecting off the skyscrapers surround Wayne Tower was blinding.

The monthly board meeting was just breaking up on the top floor of the tower. Worried executives rose from their seats around a large polished oak table, gathering their notes and reports. Picture windows looked in the thriving city below. Half- empty pitchers of water and trays of glazed desserts waited to be picked up by the service staff, disappointing stared down at the slumbering billionaire half slumped in a chair with his chin resting on his chest as the rest of the members exited the conference room.

A beautiful red haired woman lingered in the doorway, hoping for a quick word with Lucius Fox. She was holding a brief case and looking at the massive space through thin frame glasses that shaped over her dazzling sea-water blue eyes. The dignified African-American CEO of Wayne Enterprises walked back into the room she made her presence own with pleasant voice.

"Mr. Fox," she said. " Just a quick moment of your time. I believe that the merger with S.T.A.R Labs would be appropriate for the future of this company." she paused in her words. "I'm not asking for a signature on a secured document. I'm asking for date to set up a proper meeting with my associates and Mr. Wayne. We think that the research for would exceed in South American if you receive the funding for the insurance of proper supplies for the tests that our researchers will perform in the Amazon Rainforests. I think we're on to something far greater with the natural resources for modern medicine."

"I'll pass along that request to Mr. Wayne," Fox said, staring into her eyes with a light smile. "Miss?"

"Doctor." she replied. "Doctor Pamela Isley."

"You've heard a lot of good things about your research, Doctor Isley." Fox replied. "You also are a professor at Gotham University for the study of plant biology."

Doctor Isley nodded, "Botany and herbalism." she said with a stern voice. "I've done countless research in Brazil for S. T. A. R. laboratories for the last three years. Ive mostly studied the phytochemicals, those chemical compounds in plants benefit the health of human biology. There has been a wide spread of new development of medicine using these orgasms to stop the affects of disease such as cancer and metabolic syndrome in the elderly."

Fox smiled at her with a impressive gleam in his dark brown eyes. "I will be sure to tell Mr. Wayne about your research, Doctor Isley." He shifted his eyes to Bruce who was slowly awaking up in the chair. "Better yet, you will tell him. Just wait out here a few minutes while I go address the missed information of our meeting to Mr. Wayne. It shouldn't take long."

Fox reentered the conference room, staring at the young owner of Wayne Enterprise standing regally in front of picture window, gazing with a glumly look etched over his refined features. "Another long, Mr. Wayne?" his echoed throughout the massive room, Bruce turned his head and looked at Fox and gave him a short nod and smiled. "This is becoming a habit of yours, sleeping through board meetings." He stopped and noticed the dark bruises on the billionaire's neck. "I can see you've been keeping yourself busy."

Bruce shrugged his shoulders before replying, "I've been keeping under a low profile below the radar, Lucius."

"The R and D as been switched to lock down temporary until a suitable facility is found to store all the prototypes. All the governmental projects have been terminated under my authorization." Fox contained. "There is one prototype that was been secured and fully operational. A new design of mine that has been kept under my watch. But that will for another day."

"Okay," Bruce said, his eyes flared with curiosity. "Who was the woman you were talking to, Lucius?"

"Doctor Pamela Isley. She is co-partnership with S.T.A.R laboratories which is currently based in the city of Metropolis. She smart and quite beautiful."

Bruce half-rolled eyes. "Lucius,"

"We all just want is best for you Bruce," Fox replied looking at remarkable young man standing in front of him. "Is there anything you can trouble me with before I leave you alone with Doctor Isley?"

"Well...I do need a new mode of transportation."

Fox scrutinized his young employer. " Crashing Lamborghini's in the middle of broad daylight is becoming another reckless habit of yours."

Bruce smirked lightly at the older gentleman's comment. "I'm not talking about sports cars, Mr. Fox so much as speed." He took out a folded sheet of paper from his trouser's pocket and handed it to Fox.

Fox the next few minutes, Fox examined the diagram on it. Then he said, "You want to be able do high speed chases in Gotham Bay."

"It would sure make patrolling the riverfront easier." Bruce said, smiling. "Under the radar."

"I'll see what I can do. I trust you don't need this mode of transportation tonight."

"No, Mr. Fox, tonight I have a date with destiny."

Fox shook his head and chuckled lightly, "Doctor Isley will be in shortly."

* * *

After Fox exited the conference room, Bruce settled his hazel eyes out the window and looked darkly at the streets before taking out his Blackberry and quickly scanning over Doctor Isley's profile on the net, he paused and heard the click of three-inch stilettos hit the marble flooring of the conference room.

"Enjoying the view of city, Mr. Wayne?"**  
**

He casually twirled around to find an tall attractive red-head. For a moment, he simply stared at her. His memory of the information he read about her skimmed through his mind. The famous Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley, herbalist and a world renounced environmentalist who recently reentered back into Gotham University after three hours of spending time in the rain forests of Manaus, Brazil. She was dressed in a white blouse, a black pencil skirt and a silver chained necklace with a emerald leaf pendant around her statuette neck. Her striking sea-water colored eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

"Doctor Isley, isn't it?"

She curved her red lips into a smile pleasantly. When she spoke, it was a hint of a Brazilian accent. "It is just a honor to meet the young billionaire philanthropist of Gotham City. Your contributions to the university are always greatly appreciated by the faculty and the students." She paused, blue eyes raking over his body with a lustful gleam. "You should think about donating your charity funding's to a far more great need that affects your city." She moved closer to the window. "Everyday the murder rate grows. Causing such a decline..." Her voice trailed as she bore an outward virulent gaze to the city.

"True," He looked down with disdain. "Proceeds of the Wayne Enterprise's charity funds go to whatever money is needed. Including the families of some of murdered victims that couldn't afford proper funeral expenses, Doctor Isley."

She lightly scowled at this, "I'm not talking about preserving the qualities humanity, Mr. Wayne. I'm talking about the real victims of murder that happen when misguided idealists indulged their cravings with the lust of greed causing devastation to the unprotected rain forests that harbor cures for the diseases that humanity is cursed to have on this forsaken earth."

Bruce expressed a sullen look before saying, "Oh."

"Men like you, Mr. Wayne," she said with malice in her voice. "Are so blinded by their wealth that it makes them just wither away when they refuse the opportunity to preserve what is becoming endangered once their signatures on inked in the check books."

"If that's what you chose to believe, Doctor Isley." He answered back.

"You have preserve the natural resources, if you want to restore that natural balance to this world," she contained, sneering slightly at him. "Take my research over at S.T.A.R labs for better treatment of health care. No more chemicals poisoning all orgasms with toxic waste."

"Sometimes research doesn't pay off." he responded blithely. "I will do what I can to help out with funding for your research. But I'm not merging my family's company with S.T. A. R labs. Sorry."

She regarded him thoughtfully.

"You need to learn to start trust people, Mr. Wayne. Its the way you will adapt to the future. But for a man that spends his money unwisely will just become hollow on the inside."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. He felt those words lash him across the face. Pamela Isely was clearly a woman of much respect for her work and the naturalism of the world. He would have to keep a close watch on her.

"Have a good day, Mr. Wayne," she said as she turned to leave.

He watched her walked through the doorway, "Hollow?" he breathed out, with a neutral expression on his face.

* * *

After a few minutes of flirting with Fox's secretary, Bruce emerged out of the revolving doors of Wayne Tower, loosing his silk tie and pulling out a pair Aviator sunglasses from the interior pocket of his suit's jacket. He took a deep exhale and raised his chin to the gleaming towers surrounding him, and the azure -colored sky painted with a minute of ashen clouds as he moved along the sidewalk to the curb. It was uncomfortably muggy outside, he undid a few top buttons of his shirt as his feet carried him to the parked Lamborghini, instead of a Wayne Enterprises service driver standing at the curb, he stopped dead in his tracks as he slid the sunglasses down the slope of his nose.

Bruce felt his rib cage ripping underneath his white Italian cotton shirt, he motionless, dusky hazel eyes staring at the aura of scorching fire burning a gaze of melted coffee into him. He gulped down the build up of knot in his throat as he became a victim of her trance. She was fire. Pure delicious fire. He felt his heart flutter as he casually walked up to the vehicle, his eyes never dared to leave her. Selina Kyle. She was dressed in a silky black low cut top and leather pants around her curves and three-inched heeled boots crossed against the curb. She was purposely leaning her slender figure against the passenger window of his car, waiting patiently for him.

"Selina," his voice was breathless. He tried to contain his serious composure. Instead, he stepped closer and mounted his feet in front of her, and allowed to drink the lavish sight of her in black and with her dark auburn hair cascading over her shapely shoulders. His thoughts eluded the warning sides skipping through his mind as he inched closer until he evaded her territory. "What are you doing here?"

"Surprise to see me, Mr. Wayne?" she asked naughtily as she arched an eyebrow up at him. "I was prowling the streets and decided to pay you a visit and wanted to make sure you didn't forget about our date at, midnight."She scanned her eyes, looking at a few Wayne Enterprise's executives staring at them with bewildered expressions. "Don't tell me you forgot? Now that wouldn't be fun."

"No," he rasped lightly and closed the distance between them."I didn't forget. I'll be there at midnight." He instinctively snaked his arm around her waist, not realizing that heated stares of the board members were directly staring at his movements. Bruce could feel her chest rising and falling against his, feeling her hot breath rushing over his lips.

Selina took off his sunglasses and bore a satisfied gaze into his chasms of enriched hazel. She instantly wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, catching him off guard and pressed a brazen soft kiss on his lips in front of the elders of Wayne Tower and the passing traffic. She was dissolving into his arms.

When she pulled away, Bruce opened his eyes and stared at her from a moment, before he lunged forward and pressed his body against hers as her long strands swiped over the roof of the Lamborghini, he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, deepening into an appetizing osculation of their moist lips.

He pulled his lips away from hers, the wail of a GCPD cruiser speeding through the red traffic light jarred his attention, he stared at the vehicle heading to the direction of North Crescent St. The cruiser became out of sight, he licked his lips and turned his focus back to her.

But she was gone.

"So Miss Kyle..." his voice trailed, he shook his head with an amusing smirk played across his crimson smeared lips. He narrowed his refreshed eyes down to a napkin tucked under the windshield wiper, lifted up and stared at the lip imprint of the material. His eyes quickly scanned over the scribble of handwriting.

_ Gotham Cathedral. Meet you there at midnight. Don't keep me waiting, Mr. Wayne.  
_

Bruce shook his head, unable to stop the beaming grin stretching over his lips. He slid his sunglasses back over his eyes and walked to the drivers side of the Lamborghini, before settling into the leather seat he swiped lingering stain of her lips with the back of his hand and let out a content sigh, "Midnight."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8  
**

* * *

A paper cup of coffee resting next to the keyboard, as French- white polished nails hit the letter keys with rapid speed, her teal colored eyes gazed at the printed three page article: _Man Hunt for the Batman_ on the flat screen monitor and with one right click of the mouse she had sent her piece to the editor. She released a refreshing breath as she pushed back off her desk with her elbows. The rollaway office chair spun beneath her, sneaking loudly as she grabbed the cup of coffee, took a small sips and allowed her analytical mind a few moments of relaxation. She stood and looked out at the gleams of late afternoon sunlight reflecting off the skyscrapers that surrounded the Daily Planet, sensing that a pair of piercing blue eyes were staring behind thick framed glasses directly at her curvy figure.

"Get that piece on Mayor done yet?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Perry can be an impatient man when it comes to deadlines, Kent." She turned on heel and stared into the warm and gentle features of raven-haired man who she truthfully accepted with honesty and trust. She had helped established himself at the Daily Planet and instructed him at the art of blending into the normality of the work space they shared. "The way," she said with a sweet smile, "You're posture is too perfect. The glasses been to much attention on yourself. Sorry but it sort makes you look like a nerd. You need a different approach on maintaining a dual identity you want to survive the world of journalism."

Clark curved his lips into a warm smile. "So basically, you're giving a lesson in how to maintain an noticeable appearance without having to much charisma while wearing the glasses?"

She smiled back at him. He loved the way she smiled with still the fierce serious composure she carried well throughout the building. "Seeing that you've only been working here two months, I think you should take my advice seriously. I'm the reason why you got the job in the first place."

"I'm the reason while you're still alive, Miss Lane." Clark shot back with a genuine smirk.

"You don't have to remind me." Lois clenched her jaw, looked deeply into his powerful gaze. "I will not allow you to mess up this huge opportunity for this paper. Not to mention that my job is on the online if you make one disaster during the egotistical that are scheduled. Their answers made everything to us, we have to convince that they are the important links to the interviews as they state their facts and we gather the information."

Clark nodded. "I understand that. Do you have any egotistical interviews scheduled for the week?"

Lois shrugged. "I just return from Gotham. Finished my piece on the current threat on their city streets."

"Threat?" Clark asked, arching one eyebrow up, his eyes suddenly burned behind the glasses. "What kind of threat?"

She gestured a hand to a newspaper clipping from the Gotham Times newspaper atop of piles of editing articles and folders. "It seems that Metropolis isn't the only city that has a man in a cape who has a talent for destruction."

"I had no indention of leveling Luthor's building." Clark said, his eyes narrowed at the black and white image of a masked figure wearing a devilish horned mask and a long curtain lengh cape. "Who is this strange creature. Lois? He looks dangerous and very unpredictable . Is this the threat that has entered Gotham?"

Lois arched her eyebrow and snorted slightly at him. "Relax," she replied. " He's not some bizarre creature. He's a normal..." she eyes fell to the photograph. "I wouldn't say he's a normal citizen of Gotham. Any who masquerades up like a bat must have some issues."

Clark lifted up the clipping from the pile, his eyes scanning over image closely. "What we do the people of Gotham call this masked man?" He settled his eyes back to her face. " Does he have a name?"

"Batman," Lois answered. "The masked vigilante is called the Batman. He was the city's so-called protector until he murdered the District Attorney Harvey Dent and six more people. So far the Commissioner of Gotham Police stated at the press conference I attended that his sending his task force on a man hunt for this vigilante who has recently went into hiding. His current location is unknown to the police."

"Batman," Clark repeated. "He is a danger to the lives of Gotham City?"

"We can't make any assumptions, Clark," Lois said, with her voice even. " We can only go by the facts and undercover the hidden truth. I don't know if Batman is really the murderer of Harvey Dent, it is a questionable fact that his motives shouldn't be taken lightly. All I can tell you is don't jump to a conclusion and make an error that could endanger his life and yours until the police commissioner releases more information. I don't think Gotham is ready to you in action. At least not yet, Clark."

"I understand your concern, Lois." Clark responded softly, and closed the door behind him and he causally moved forward to her. With a shift move and embraced his arms over her tense body and pressed her tightly against him. "Until we uncover more facts about this Batman, I will remind grounded from Gotham." He pressed his forehead against her head while she enclosed her arms over his broad shoulders. She relaxed against his body, listening to his heart pounding through his chest, and the unspoken emotion between them melted into intense waves. She lifted her eyes and looked steady into his deep gaze.

"Grounded," She said, raising both her red tinged eyebrows. "So you were thinking about flying to Gotham?"

"Only if they needed my help." he murmured, watching her dug face head into the center of his chest. He threaded his fingers through her copper strands of hair and placed a finger underneath her chin, lifting her head up closer to his lips. He captured her mouth into a soft kiss before pulling away. "Whoever this Batman is...he might turn out to be one of the most dangerous men I have ever fought."

Lois gave him a questioning look, "Dangerous," she whispered against his smooth jaw. 'I seriously doubt that, Clark."

"Never make assumptions, Lois," Clark teased, before claiming her lips once more as he concealed against her skin . "Only facts."

* * *

Inside the the underground concrete chamber, Bruce was sitting at the computer desk, his shoulders slumped as he focus his dark, hazel eyes on the collection of seven linked Cray super computer screens, hitting a key as an image of clear Selina Kyle appeared at the center monitor, his eyes glowered at her exquisite creamed-colored features and full teardrop-shaped lips that highlighted over her smooth skin. His gaze was frozen as he looked deeper into her shadowy gaze of coffee while not realizing at the satisfied grin stretched over his delicate lips. She was the elusive masterpiece of shadow and allure. Every detail of her face had a purpose as if it was molded into a thick mask to conceal her genuine emotions. He saw right through her transparent masks every time he was caught into the moment of looking inside her dark gaze and saw the hidden pain trapped within her strong feline poise.

His hand reached out to touch the image on the screen, his finger run over her red lips. He hit a key and zoomed in around her eyes and noticed a cluster of faint freckles peppering underneath her large dark brown eyes. His finger tips moved as he closed his eyes, grasping the feeling of touching smooth skin of her face and telling her with an unreserved voice how beautiful was she without the mask. He opened his eyes, feeling a smile crept over his firm lips as he shook his head. She was the only woman that could allow him to be his true self without the facade of the clumsy dreamboat playboy that the public berated in short columns of the Gotham Tribute and Gotham Times. She made him laugh, he loved how brazen she was towards his magnetize charm and that clever smirk she wore around him when his bore a deep and searching gaze into her eyes.

"Selina," he mused, locked onto her face as he read her full name printed underneath the image. "Selina Maria Kyle..." his low voice rasped as he felt her name flow over his lips. He heard the lift creak down to the floor and didn't shift his attention as Alfred casually walked across the cement flooring behind him.

"I trust you will be wearing the appropriate suit for tonight, Master Wayne." the butler called out, walking passed the parked Bat-pod. Bruce jolted with a daze look in his eyes as he turned around and met the winter blue eyes of the old Englishmen, holding a white card box that was tucked under his arm. "Whenever you dress, you sure do make a bloody statement."

Bruce shrugged, "It's my own style." He lightly smirked, shifting his eyes back to screen. "Besides she is expecting me to wear the suit tonight, Alfred."

Alfred looked at the image of a young brunette on screen, with curious crisp blue eyes. " This is the woman that last been keeping you out longer than except. She is quite lovely a _femme fatale._." the butler commented. "What is her name, Master Wayne?"

"Selina," Bruce replied with a hushed tone. "Her name is Selina Kyle. I have to admit she is a beautiful."

"That may be, sir," Alfred affirmed pleasantly."Judging from that mug shot of hers, she also seems to be quite dangerous. Perhaps you should reconsider sharing your secrets until you exchange words over a few coffee dates with his lovely jewel thief."

"Alfred," Bruce began with a hint of grumble in his voice."She always knows that I'm Batman. Selina figured it all out on her own without allowing me to unmask the truth to her."

"When do you want to set set up the wedding date, Master Wayne?" Alfred teasingly asked with cheeky smile. "Considering that you already know each others secrets. I think you've reached the breaking point of levels of trust with this woman, sir."

Bruce's hazel eyes lit up. "Alfred, I'm taking one step at a time with her." he narrowed his eyes at his father's watch and saw that it read 11:30pm . He rose from the chair and winced slightly as he walked to the center of the floor, instantly the metal cabinet ascended from the floor as he stepped closer, disregarding his black t-shirt shirt and tossing to the nearby workbench. The scarred muscular planes of his back gleamed under the low ceiling lights, his eyes staring at the hollow shell of his suit supported be long metal clasps at the plated shoulders. He reached out his hand and touched the Kevlar plates gently for a moment, then let out a shaky exhale, knowing that he was risking everything once he put on the mask. Gordon would have officers paroling every point of the city, he had to reply on his nijntsu tactics to elude their watchful eyes.

"Where are you meeting this lovely Miss Kyle," Alfred asked, with a trickle in his eye.

Bruce let out a breathless sigh, "Gotham Cathedral," he replied, living up the heart of his guise. The sharp eared graphite cowl. The devilish mask of his mortal existence.

"Cathedral," Alfred repeated with a cocky English accent. "No officer would think to look there. Very clever engagement on Miss Kyle's part. I think I'm starting to like this jewel thief of yours, Master Wayne."

Bruce started dissembling the armor plates of the body suit , his heart was pounding with anticipation as he pulled out the thin material over his slightly feverish skin and replied, " Don't get any ideas. Selina can be very unpredictable...you always have to be on your guard with her, Alfred." A dumb smile crept over his lips as he pulled his arms through the hard torso piece, wondering if he shouldn't have chosen to wear Armani instead of Kevlar.

Alfred walked up to his young master, and placed the white box in Bruce's hand.

"What's this?" Bruce questioned, furrowing his brow.

"I thought Miss Kyle deserves a red rose. It's not everyday a lovely woman spends a night with Gotham's most wanted and brooding vigilante."

Bruce pursed his lips sourly before he let out a breathless laugh, "What would I do without you, Alfred."

* * *

**A/N : The intense & romantic midnight hour between the Bat and the Cat will be in the next chapter with a few delicious surprises. Thank and enjoy.  
**


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